You Don't See Me
by zx14ninja
Summary: AU. Ron and the twins never made it to Surrey to rescue their trapped friend; instead Harry spends his last weeks locked in a small room surviving on one can of soup a day. Weak and ill from malnutrition Harry makes it to Hogwarts only to recive three weeks of detention with Snape. When Harry collapses during the first detention life changes dramtically for both of them.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimers: Read carefully because this is the only disclaimer you're getting. I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters, and I'm not making any money. This goes for all chapters. Thank you

Warnings: Non-graphic mention of child abuse, possible homosexual mentions but none at the moment.

AU

Now Beta by Emerald Ashes, Thank you so much!

* * *

Harry Potter would never know what convinced the Dursleys to let him return to Hogwarts when the long and horrible summer finally came to an end. Perhaps it was their fear of what might happen if he didn't show up or maybe they were simply tired of having to push cold soup through the cat flap Uncle Vernon had installed after the disastrous pudding incident. Either way, Harry had never been so happy to see Kings Cross station. It didn't matter that his homework was incomplete or that he didn't have any school supplies for the new term. He didn't even care that Uncle Vernon made sure to run over his foot as he drove out of the station. All that mattered was that he was going back.

A weak smile split the thin, almost gaunt face. Nearly a month of living on one meal of can soup most days—and even then Harry had given most of the solid parts to Hedwig—had taken its toll. His normally thin frame was skeletal, and he was far too pale. Grasping the handle on his trunk, Harry was dismayed to find he could barely drag the thing along to a nearby cart, and it was only with the help of a friendly station worker that he managed to get the trunk loaded.

"Ya sure yer gonna be alright, kid?" asked the man in a gruff voice that reminded him of Hagrid. Harry smiled.

"Yeah, thanks."

The man didn't look convinced but, thankfully, didn't press the issue. The cart, laden with his trunk and Hedwig, was far heavier than Harry remembered. By the time he arrived at the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 he was sweating profusely.

Pausing for a moment to catch his breath, Harry could feel his head pounding from the lack of food which was only made worse by the hustle and bustle of King's Cross. After a month and a half in a locked room Harry found the noise of the station overwhelming.

As Harry swayed dangerously a voice he recognized, but hadn't heard since summer began, rang through the station.

"Harry!"

Turning, Harry smiled weakly at his red haired friend.

"Ron."

Ron Weasley hadn't changed much, other than to grow taller; he was still red-haired and freckled. Behind him, Harry could see a gaggle of red-heads. Fred and George waved enthusiastically while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley beamed.

"Boy, mate, you sure look peaky! You sure you're all right there?" asked Ron as he steered the smaller boy over to his waiting family.

"Yeah, just . . . long summer, I'll tell you about it on the train." Harry murmured.

"Come along boys! If you don't hurry, you'll miss the train" called Mrs. Weasley. She pulled Harry into a hug, startling the stressed boy.

"You'll have to come visit us next summer, or perhaps your relatives wouldn't mind you staying for a few days over the holidays," she told him as they quickly neared the barrier.

Harry smiled at her "No, I don't think they'll mind at all."

She squeezed his shoulder, causing Harry to suppress a wince. He still had bruises from Uncle Vernon. By now Fred, George and Percy had already gone through the barrier.

"We'll go through with Ginny and you two follow behind," said Mr. Weasley.

Nodding, Harry and Ron watched as the group disappeared onto the hidden platform.

"Not much time left, best take it at a run if we don't want to miss the train," said Ron.

They hit the barrier at the same time, except, instead of passing through, a resounding CRASH! rang out. Harry sat stunned, staring at the very solid brick wall in front of him. Why hadn't they gone through? His heart rate sped up as he heard the ringing of the clock, signaling the hour and the departure of the Hogwarts Express. They'd missed the train.

"Harry, Harry!" He realized Ron was trying to get him to move because they were attracting quite a bit of attention.

"Ron, the train . . . your parents . . . the barrier, why can't we get through the barrier?" Harry hissed as he gingerly stood and quickly gathered up a squawking Hedwig.

"Calm down Harry we'll just go wait by the car . . ." Ron trailed off, a look on his face not unlike Hermione figuring out the answer to a difficult question.

"Harry, the car!"

Harry stared at him. "Car? What car? Your parents have a car?"

Small shivers racked his frame. He could not go back to the Dursleys; he wasn't sure how much longer he could survive in that cramped room.

"Look, it's a long story I'll tell you on the way there. Just follow me."

He led Harry to an old, blue Ford Anglia and quickly opened the boot. It was only with Ron's help that Harry managed to get his trunk into it.

"Ron, you do realize that we can't exactly drive to Hogwarts?" Harry asked, reluctantly climbing into the front passenger seat. Tapping the dash board with his wand, Ron shot Harry a grin.

"We're not driving to Hogwarts," he told Harry as the car began to float, "we're flying."

Harry looked down in shock at the ground below where Muggles stared up at them. Muggles.

"Erm, Ron, you do realize that most Muggles aren't accustomed to flying cars?"

"Oh right, no worries." The red-head said pressing a button on the dash board, "Invisibility booster."

Satisfied, Harry relaxed against the seat.

"So, you just happen to have a flying car?" he asked Ron. The other boy grinned at him again.

"Nah, it's one of the things Dad tinkers with. He likes to take apart Muggle things, enchants them, and then put them back together. The car's one of them. Actually, Fred and George and I were planning on coming and rescuing you with it, but Mum caught us, threw a right fit about it too," –he sighed dramatically – "went on about the dangers of flying cars, then grounded us for the rest of the summer."

Harry stiffed at the word "grounded." He had a distinct feeling that what grounded meant for him and what it meant for Ron were two very different things. At least, he hoped it was. Even so, Harry decided not to ask. He was far too tired to try and puzzle out what was normal punishment for him as opposed to everyone else. Closing his eyes, Harry allowed sleep to overtake him. His last thought before drifting off was that there were so many ways that flying a car to Hogwarts could go wrong.

* * *

". . . Arry, Harry."

Harry awoke to someone shaking his shoulder. He immediately went rigid, unused to anyone touching him in such a way except for his Aunt and Uncle, and that was hardly pleasant. As he became more aware of himself, Harry remembered that he was in a flying car heading to Hogwarts.

"You okay mate? Sorry to wake you but we're nearly there" said Ron, keeping his hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry licked his dry lips, realizing that he must have slept through most of the trip, which was a good thing because now he could feel just how thirsty he was.

"'M fine" Harry croaked, swallowing thickly. Ron squeezed his shoulder.

"Harry . . ." Ron began and Harry braced himself for the awkward questions. Suddenly, the car spluttered and jerked. Ron let out a curse Harry was sure Mrs. Weasley would have washed his mouth out for. For several heart-stopping moments Harry was sure they would crash into the Black Lake. Ron pulled out his wand and hit the dash board frantically.

The car pulled up enough to miss the icy water, but not the tree. And the tree fought back.

In the end Harry vowed to never follow Ron into any kind of transportation. The tree left them battered and bruised, the car was gone, Ron's wand was broken, and Harry wasn't sure he could get his trunk into the castle. All in all he really didn't think his situation could get much worse.

"Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter, I suggest you follow me," came an oil voice behind them, and Harry felt his heart plummet. He should have known. Never assume that the worst had happened; something will always prove you wrong, especially if you're Harry Potter.

Slowly, the boys turned to face the most hated professor in Hogwarts: Professor Severus Snape.

* * *

Author's Note:

Well hello Harry Potter fans, and welcome to my first Harry Potter fanfic! Of course this is a classic Harry-gets-adopted-by-Snape fic, but, honestly, I had to write one. I hope you all have enjoyed the first chapter and will take the time to listen to me babble.

First off, I am normally a very consistent updater and update once a week. However, that was before I started college, so updates might be closer to two weeks or even a month. I do promise that I will try to get them out as fast as possible; I know how frustrating it is to be waiting for a fic to update.

Next, I encourage my reader to please review and tell me what you think, flamers can go ahead and review as well; I'm always in need of a good laugh.

Once again I'd like to express my deepest gratitude to Emerald Ashes for beta-ing this story

Until next time,

Zx14ninja


	2. Chapter 2

Note: alright I've been listening to the audio version of the second book (I love Jim Dale, he has an awesome voice) and I've realized that, in order for my vague idea for this story to work, I can't follow the events of the book as closely as I'd like and will probably end up as a mix of the books, the movies and things I've changed . . . so, to those who notice, sorry.

Beta'd by Emerald Ashes

* * *

The summer hadn't changed Snape anymore than it had changed Ron; he was still tall and forbidding with a curtain of greasy, shoulder length hair and black eyes which shone with absolute mirth at having caught Harry and Ron.

Harry swallowed thickly. He felt nauseous, but then he always felt ill in Snape's presence. Snape wasn't the first teacher to hate him, but he was the vilest about it. The humiliation and utter nastiness of last year's potion class got to the point where Harry was physically ill before lessons.

He'd hoped to avoid Snape as much as possible. Now, as he stared into pitiless black eyes, Harry knew it would be a long year, assuming they weren't expelled.

_And then I'll be sent back to the Dursleys . . . Uncle Vernon will kill me_, Harry thought as he dragged his feet all the way down to the dungeons.

The tension building in Harry's stomach only increased as they entered Snape's office. Snape walked slowly around his desk, drawing out their suffering, then slapped a newspaper in front of them.

"So . . . so . . . the train wasn't good enough for the famous Harry Potter and his ever faithful sidekick Ronald Weasley?"

"Sir," Ron began "If you'll just let us explain . . ."

"Be silent," Snape hissed, shutting them up more effectively than if he'd shouted.

"I don't want to hear whatever inane excuse you have concocted for your deplorable actions." He gestured to the newspaper, and Harry its title proclaimed "FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES!"*, followed by the statements of several eye witnesses who claimed to have seen a flying car. If Harry hadn't felt sick before, he most certainly did now.

"You were seen by no less than six Muggles, a serious breach of the Statue of Secrecy; not only that, but you have damaged an old and valuable Whomping Willow," Snape snarled.

"Damaged? It did more damage to us than we did . . ."

"I believe I told you to hold your tongue, Mr. Weasley."

Ron flushed red, and Harry could tell he was going to say something stupid. Quickly, Harry grab Ron's arm, shaking his head. Normally Harry would be just as willing to fight with Snape – just not today when their statue as students was hanging in the balance.

"If you were students in my house, you both would be expelled and on the next train home!" Snape informed them, and Harry's heart clenched. Expulsion, no, no, NO! Such was his panic that he almost missed what Snape said next.

"As it were, I do not possess that happy power . . ."

"I'm afraid that power lies only with the headmaster," came a calm, gentle voice from behind them.

Harry turned to see Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall framed in the doorway.

In the end they weren't expelled. Although two weeks' worth of detention and a letter sent home to their parents – or guardians, in Harry's case – was punishment enough. Ron was concerned about the letter most, insisting, "Mum'll kill me!"

Harry, on the other hand, was only worried about the Dursleys' reaction to the owl post. By the time they were finally allowed to go to their dorms, Harry had reached his limit. Exhaustion from the starvation he'd suffered over the holidays was weighing heavily on him.

He barely escaped his enthusiastic housemates' congratulations and Hermione's lecture, staggering up to the boys' dorms and falling, fully clothed, into sleep's embrace.

* * *

Severus Snape was well aware that he could be harsh, even cruel, when it came to Harry Potter, but his actions were easily justified by his position as a spy and Potter's obvious need for discipline. At least, that was what he told Dumbledore whenever McGonagall raised a fuss.

Of course, given Potter's latest bid for attention – driving a fly car to Hogwarts – Severus felt further justified. Even better, he could tell by the sour look on McGonagall's face, sitting across from him at the annual first of the year staff meeting, that she knew it.

"Now, Severus, we have no reason to doubt Mr. Potter's and Mr. Weasley's claim that the barrier wouldn't open," pacified Professor Dumbledore.

"Perhaps," Severus drawled in disbelief – after all, no one else had problems with the barrier – "but they still, not only endangered themselves, but threatened out entire world with exposure."

"Oh, come now, Severus . . ."

"No, I've had just about enough of precious, golden boy _Potter_ getting away with everything; he needs to be suitably punished," Severus declared.

"And they will be Severus," said McGonagall, "unless you believe a more severe punishment than two weeks of detention with Mr. Filch is lenient. Not to mention the letters being sent to their homes."

Severus scowled "As a matter of fact, I believe Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley should not serve detention together. We wouldn't want them to get any ideas."

"Mr. Potter can serve detention with me!" said Lockhart, flashing a smile.

Slowly, Severus turned to look at the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "Oh? And what will you have him do? Sign fan mail?"

The smile on Lockharts face slipped off.

"The last thing Potter needs is to have his head inflated anymore."

"Very well, Severus; then Harry will serve detention with you," said Dumbledore, an infuriating twinkle in his blue eyes.

Severus glared at him. While he didn't really want to babysit precious Potter he was also the only one who would give the boy the punishment he deserved. Besides, Severus couldn't deny that he enjoyed taking Potter down a peg.

"Fine, but when Potter comes whining about it, I expect you to put him in his place." He looked directly at McGonagall.

She sniffed. "For your information, Severus, Mr. Potter has never complained to me about any detention, yours or otherwise."

"You'll pardon me if I find that hard to believe," Severus sneered.

McGonagall's eyes flashed. "Now you listen here, Severus . . ."

"I think that will be all for tonight," cut in Dumbledore before the fight could truly begin, "We all have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and I believe it is best for us to retire."

There were murmurs of agreement from the other teachers, along with a loud, "Jolly good idea, Headmaster, jolly good I was just about to suggest it myself," from Lockhart.

It took all of Severus's considerable control to not hex the man into oblivion.

Once he was in his quarters, Severus poured himself a drink before setting down heavily in front of the fire. Sipping at the amber liquid, he stared into the fire's flickering depths. He often prided himself on his keen observational abilities, and it hadn't escaped his notice that Potter had seemed . . . off. Normally the boy showed as much, if not more, disrespect than his late father, but he'd been oddly quiet during the lecture. Perhaps the boy felt remorseful for endangering himself and his best friend?

Severus scoffed at the thought. No, that couldn't be it. Potter was up to something; he was always up to something. Finishing his drink, Severus put out the fire and headed to bed. He'd figure out what to do about Harry-bloody-Potter in the morning.

* * *

Harry awoke feeling tired, and it took an extreme effort to force himself out of bed. Glancing around, he realized he was the last one up but couldn't seem to find the energy to panic. Lethargically, he staggered into the shower, grateful for the first warm water he'd felt since he'd left for the summer holiday. After a thorough cleaning, Harry got dressed and was about to make his way to the great hall when Ron and Hermione came into the common room.

"Harry! Thank goodness you're awake. McGonagall was in a right state when you weren't at breakfast!" said Hermione. Harry blinked at her words, having difficulty processing.

"Why didn't you wake me?" he finally asked, vaguely noting that his friends were steering him out the door.

"You seemed to need it after last night,"– Ron shrugged –"Any way, we got your schedule, and McGonagall wants to see you after class to talk about your detention."

"Aren't I having it with you?"

"Apparently not, I got detection with Filch." He scowled.

"Well you both . . ." started Hermione

"Don't say it, I've already suffered through a Howler, I don't need a lecture from you, as well."

"A what?" Harry asked.

"A Howler, they're horrible. I suppose it's like a feleyphone but in a letter."

"Telephone, Ron" said Hermione, exasperated. Harry smiled weakly at their bickering; it was good to be back at Hogwarts.

By the time they had Transfiguration, Harry had lost ten house points for not having his summer homework completed or his school supplies.

"Honestly, Harry, even Ron had it done!" lectured Hermione.

Harry rubbed his tired eyes. "It's not my fault the Dursleys wouldn't let me do my homework," he muttered.

"Well, why don't you just tell the teachers . . ."

"No," Harry said shortly.

"_Harry_."

"I said no, Hermione, drop it."

There was no way he was going to tell the teachers that he wasn't allowed to do his homework. At best they'd inquire and make life difficult for him at home. At worst . . . they wouldn't believe him at all. Harry would rather suffer through his housemates' wrath for losing points than go through that again.

"Lay off him, Hermione. He's obviously had a rough summer," said Ron

To her credit, Hermione followed Ron's advice and stopped pestering him.

Transfiguration didn't go any better. When Harry told Professor McGonagall his homework wasn't done, she pursed her lips but didn't dock points. When she realized Harry hadn't down any of his homework or gotten his supplies, she was livid.

"A disgrace to Gryffindor! I am truly disappointed in you, Mr. Potter, and you'll serve an extra week of detention," McGonagall scolded him when she held him back after class.

Harry closed his eyes; he'd never catch up at this rate.

"I also expect for all of your homework to be completed by the end of the week."

"But Professor . . ."

"No excuses, Mr. Potter! You had the entire summer to complete the homework, and I have no sympathy for you."

Harry hung his head. "Yes Professor."

"Now, you'll report to Professor Snape at 7:30 sharp, and I suggest you not be late."

Harry nodded miserably, struggling not cry. Snape would set him to work scrubbing cauldrons or the floors, or organizing the store room, which normally wasn't bad, as far as Harry was concerned. He'd been cleaning for more than half his life, but he wasn't sure his food deprived and slightly battered body could handle it.

So, with a heavy heart, he headed back to the common room, skipping lunch entirely. Harry knew it wasn't a good idea, but he had to order his school supplies, start his homework, and try to finish his summer homework.

By the time 7:30 rolled around, Harry thought he really would cry. Even with Hermione's help, he was utterly overwhelmed by the mound of homework in front of him. To top it off, Harry also needed to fill out over a dozen orders for his school supplies. The only reason Harry even remembered his detention was because Ron also had one.

"Don't let the git give you too hard a time," said Ron as they parted ways – Harry to the dungeons and Ron to Filch's office. It was with a feeling of dread that Harry knocked on Snape's door.

"Enter."

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," – the man sneered as he realized Harry was on time –"Good to see you can follow directions when properly motivated."

Harry didn't respond, and Snape sneered again. Gathering up some papers, Snape make his way out the office and into the classroom.

"The cauldrons are over there, Potter. I expect to be able to see my reflection in them by the time you're through."

With only a softly muttered, "Yes, Sir," Harry gathered up the cauldrons, struggling to ignore the strain in his toothpick arms. By the time all of the cauldrons were at the sink, Harry was exhausted. His hands shook as he filled the particularly nasty ones with soap and water to soak, then began scrubbing the more manageable cauldrons.

He was trembling after he'd finished the first, severely cramping after the second, and, by the third, the cauldron slipped through his wet fingers. It hit the floor with an almighty CLANG, sending soapy water all over the floor.

Terrified, Harry looked at Snape. The Potion Master's face was thunderous. He could see Snape yelling, could see his mouth moving, but, oddly enough, he couldn't hear it.

Snape was approaching him, now. Harry struggled to stay upright as the world spun around him, and Snape loomed above. He swayed, knees buckling. Harry felt someone catch him as he fell, and then everything went dark.

* * *

Author's note:

Thank you to all who have reviewed! It truly makes my day ^_^. I know that given this is only the second chapter it's a bit early to ask this question, but if anyone likes this story enough to make fan art for it at some point I'd love to use it as the image for the story. Just send me your deviant art or photobucket account and the name of the picture over a review, I will of course give you credit.

By the way does anyone else think it's kinda creepy that Salazar Slytherin's chamber is in a girls bathroom?

Also College starts Tuesday for me so I might not be so quick with updating, please be patient.

*This is the actual name of the article mention in _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_


	3. Chapter 3

Beta'd by Emerald Ashes

* * *

Something was off about the boy; he seemed unsteady and tired, even though there were no bags under his eyes. Several times, as Potter carried the cauldron to the sink, Severus was afraid he would topple over. Strange…Harry Potter was a lot of things, but uncoordinated was not one of them.

Soon, the boy settled into cauldron washing, and Severus relaxed. It wasn't his problem if the boy was ill but too proud to go the Hospital Wing. Still, he kept an eye on him as Potter lethargically began to fill the cauldron. Severus had to admit the brat was superb at cleaning – to the point that he had accused him of using magic. Thus far, Severus couldn't prove it. After all, he monitored the Potter himself, but no boy should be that proficient at cleaning.

Severus turned back to his paper work, grading abysmal third year essays from the summer. He'd managed to puzzle through a Hufflepuff who clearly didn't understand the subject when a loud clang caused his head to jerk back up.

There stood Harry Potter, gaping at the cauldron lying on the floor as its soapy, dirty water sloshed out.

"Potter!" he snarled. The brat was just as arrogant as his father! He wasn't even trying to clean up his mess! Potter didn't respond, just stared at him.

Anger swelling, Severus marched over in front of the boy. But, before he could start lecturing Potter on proper detention conduct, the child swayed, his eyes rolled and then . . .

"Potter?!" Severus shouted again – this time in shock as the boy collapsed into his arms. Gently, he shook him, slightly disturbed by the just how light Potter was. He couldn't have weighed more than fifty or sixty pounds.

True, Harry Potter was by far the smallest second year, smaller than even some of the first years, but to be so light?

After spelling the floor dry, Severus slowly lowered the child to the dungeon floor and hurried to his potion store. Gathering up several potions, he returned to kneel next to him. He carefully passed one of the potions under Potter's nose to wake him up. Severus suddenly noticed just how skeletal the boy was, but why hadn't he realized before?

However, he didn't get a chance dwell on it because just then Potter let out a small gasp, his eyes fluttering open.

"What . . . ?"

"Lay still, Potter, until I have determined the cause of your sudden and overdramatic swoon."

Potter shivered. "But, I . . ."

"Lay _still_ Potter!" Potter froze.

Severus, although not as adept as Madam Pomfrey, was proficient in simple diagnostic charms, and was leery about moving the boy to the Hospital Wing without checking on why he'd collapsed.

The results were very discouraging.

"Potter, when is the last time you ate?" he snarled. He had little patience with dieting teenagers.

"Urm . . . breakfast."

Severus snorted. "How strange, since I don't recall seeing you with your normal cohorts."

Potter blushed, not saying anything.

"Very well, come on, Potter, up you get."

The boy stood shakily, and Severus gave him a Pepper Up potion.

"You're going to the Hospital Wing, and, if I don't see you at every meal from here on out, I'll add another detention to your already extensive collection."

"But . . . sir."

"Do you really need me to escort you to the Hospital Wing?"

The boy shook his head vigorously. "No, sir."

Quickly, he left the room.

Severus watched him go. He'd done his duty as a teacher and squashed the nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

* * *

Harry let out a sigh of relief. He'd thought for sure that Snape would insist on escorting him to Madam Pomfrey. Quickly, he clambered up the dungeons steps, but, instead of going to the Hospital Wing, he headed to the common room. Harry had no intention of going to see Madam Pomfrey; he didn't want to answer those questions.

Still, in some ways, Harry was grateful for his sudden collapse. It got him out of one of his many detentions, and, now, he just had to make sure he showed up at meals. Then, Snape would have no reason to check with Madam Pomfrey. Feeling lighter, Harry tiredly gave the Fat Lady the password.

It was a good thing Snape let him out early because things took a turn for the worse for Harry. Although he make sure to show up at eat at every meal, between the stress of trying to complete all of his homework while waiting for his new books, quills, parchment and other supplies, and his continued detentions, Harry found he could barely keep anything down.

The new DADA teacher didn't help, either. Flashy Professor Lockhart kept seeking him out, telling which how to be famous and even trying to get Harry to take a photo with him for first year Gryffindor Collin Creevey.

The whole thing made Harry sick. He was disturbed by how Lockhart seemed to think he enjoyed being famous, just like Snape. The only difference was Snape hated Harry for it. Truthfully, Harry preferred Snape. Hatred and contempt he could deal with, but this constant barrage of attention from Lockhart make his already weak stomach churn.

On top of that, Wood had started Qudditch practice within a day of their return to Hogwarts. Normally, Harry would have been overjoyed at the return to his favorite sport, but, with his ever growing mound of homework and touchy stomach, Qudditch became absolute torture.

Wood had the team up near dawn to discuss tactics, making Harry want to cry with exhaustion. He'd been running on next to no sleep because of detentions and trying to complete his homework, and he still didn't have his summer work done. McGonagall was furious. If it weren't for her desire to win the Quidditch cup, Harry had a feeling he'd be off the team.

Once, Harry nearly fell over as he realized Fred and George were mere inches from his nose. Clutching his Nimbus to his chest, Harry struggled to calm his pounding heart.

"See, Oliver! This is what happens when you get sleep deprived heroes out of bed far too early; they can't even focus!" said Fred" with his usual over dramatics

"Yeah," said George, "just look at me and Fred. We can't focus on your lecture, either!"

"Shut it, you two!" Wood growled.

Harry had been almost grateful for the Slytherin interruption of that particular practice, even if it did end with Ron belching slugs.

All in all, Harry was glad for the end of the week, he still had to go to detention, but at least he'd managed not to faint again.

* * *

Severus's eyes narrowed as he watched his quarry at the breakfast table. For all that Potter showed up to meals, he certainly didn't look any better. The boy had bruises like bags under his eyes and was still skeletal.

Severus sighed in frustration. Why was he the only one who noticed Potter looked like the living dead? Surely McGonagall should have dealt with it by now?!

For that matter, Madam Pomfrey should have also done so. Potter wasn't the first too thin child he'd sent to her. Many were within his own house. Most were pureblood girls who thought it was fashionable, but also a few Seekers as well. In fact, Seekers were notorious for their dieting habits in an attempt to make themselves lighter. Of course, the fools didn't realize that, in the end, they only weakened their chances of finding the Snitch. Quiddich required energy – lack of food, lack of energy.

Most of the time, when such a problem on one of the teams arose, Pomfrey suspended the player until he or she was back to the proper weight. However, Potter was clearly in his Qudditch robes.

"Why are you staring so hard at my Gryffindors, Severus? Trying to expel them all or just one in particular?"

Severus turned his withering gaze on Minerva McGonagall as she sat next to him.

"As much as I'd like to, no. Actually, I was noting your golden boy looks a little under the weather. I was surprised Madam Pomfrey let him play Quidditch."

McGonagall glanced at Harry.

"He seems fine to me, and Poppy hasn't mentioned anything about him coming to see her. She always informs me when someone from my house comes in."

Well, that explained one mystery. The boy had disobeyed him and hadn't gone to the Hospital Wing, but it didn't answer why McGonagall seemed to think Potter was fine. Normally, the head of Gryffindor house was quite protective of her lions, and she didn't miss much.

Something odd was going on here, and, as much as he wanted to avoid getting involved with, it seemed he had no choice.

_Always the exception, aren't you, Potter._

* * *

Authors note:

Jaw drop, wow, I have over 50 reviews within two chapters that's amazing. Thank you, thank you to all who have reviewed, you are all wonderful! The next chapter probably won't be out for two or three weeks, I'm still working out the issues for the next chapter and its proving difficult.

Okay, I know some people are going to be disappointed that Snape didn't immediately take Harry to the Hospital Wing or do a better examination, truth be told I went back and forth for a while. I decided to do it this way because I feel it is more in character for Snape. Snape has over 12 years to build up resentment for Harry. That's not going to suddenly go away even with somewhat obvious facts in front of him. Snape is also very prideful and hates to admit he's wrong, I feel that, until he is forced to deal with the situation himself, he'll try to pass it on to someone else.


	4. Chapter 4

"_Rip . . . tear . . ."_

Eyes wide, Harry glanced around the deserted first floor corridor. Nothing, maybe he was just hearing things . . . There it was again! A hoarse, bodiless voice that sent chills down his spine. Harry stood frozen in the corridor, afraid to move.

"Harry? Was the matter?" called Ron when he realized Harry was no longer beside him.

"Did you hear that?" Harry asked, standing stock still in the corridor.

Ron frowned, "hear what?" he asked.

"That voice! Y-you didn't hear it?"

Baffled Ron looked around the empty hallway, "No one's talking Harry" said Ron gently, concerned.

"S-so you didn't hear it?" Harry asked again, desperate to know he wasn't losing his mind.

Ron shook his head, "No mate, didn't hear a thing"

Hearing things wasn't a good sign and Harry felt panic threaten to overwhelm him.

"Easy mate, you're probably just over tired. Don't worry about it"

_Ron's right it's probably nothing, I'm just tired and imagining things_, Harry told himself. Reluctantly Harry split from Ron at the entrance hall. By the time he reached the dungeons, Harry had managed to push the bodiless voice out of his mind.

Timidly, Harry knocked on the door. The Potion Master's voice was angrier than usual when bidding him to enter, and Harry cringed as he walked inside.

Snape stood in front of his desk, eyes black with anger.

"You're late, Potter."

"I know, sir, I'm . . ." But Snape cut him off.

"Never mind. Come with me, _now_!"

Bewildered, Harry followed Snape out of the office, but, instead of going to the classroom as usual, Snape led him out of the dungeons and up several flights of stairs.

Did Snape have some new, even more torturous detention planned for him as a punishment for being late?

Then, Harry realized exactly where they were. He stopped, staring at Snape, horror struck. Snape went a few paces before he realized Harry was no longer following him.

"I don't have all day, Potter, hurry up."

"B-but sir, I . . . I've already gone to see Madam Pomfrey."

Quirking an eyebrow, Snape breathed out, "Oh, really? Then perhaps you are proficient at the memory modifying charm because Madam Pomfrey certainly has no recollection of you ever coming to see her."

Harry turned scarlet, realizing Snape called his , and wondering if he dared make a run for it.

"Don't even think about it, Potter!" snarled Snape. A large hand grabbed his shoulder in a firm grip. Harry flinched, and Snape paused, staring at him. The professor's voice was less harsh when he spoke again.

"Come on, Potter, the sooner this is over with, the better."

Keeping the hand on his shoulder, Snape steered Harry into the white walled room. The Hospital Wing was deserted, so at least he wouldn't have an audience.

Madame Pomfrey came sweeping out of her office, squashing any chance that Harry had of getting out of this.

"Ah, Mr. Potter and Professor Snape, what can I do for you this evening?"

Snape shoved Harry in front of her.

"As you can see, Potter needs an examination."

She quickly looked Harry up and down. "You do look a bit thin, dear . . ."

"A bit?" sneered Snape. "He's skin and bones! Not to mention, he already collapsed once during detention!"

Madame Pomfrey blinked and looked as Harry again, this time longer, her eyes peering at him keenly.

"Well, hop up on the bed Mr. Potter."

Nervously, he did as he was told.

"I already cast a simple diagnostic spell on the boy, and it showed him to be severely underweight."

"Why didn't you just send him to me?" Madame Pomfrey asked indignantly.

Snape scowled. "I _did_, Potter, as usual, didn't do as he was told."

Madame Pomfrey shook her head in exasperation, before turning back to Harry.

"I'll cast a more in depth spell then, to give us a better look at what we're dealing with."

Harry scooted back farther onto the bed, away from the wand she pointed at him.

"R-really, I'm fine; there's no need to . . ."

"Potter! Sit still," hissed Snape. Harry shut his eyes tight as the matron cast her spell. Silence. Complete and utter silence met his ears. Slowly, Harry opened his eyes to find Snape and Madame Pomfrey staring at him.

"W-what?" Harry asked, his nervousness getting the better of him.

"Mr. Potter, are you aware that you have a Notice-Me-Not spell on you?" asked Snape.

"I-I, a what?"

"A Notice-Me-Not spell, it's a type of weak glamour," Snape told him impatiently.

"N-no."

Snape stared at him hard. "I doubt he's lying," he said finally, "glamour's aren't taught in charms until fourth year. It's likely a case of accidental magic."

Harry swallowed. Even though he knew logically that he couldn't help accidental magic, his stomach still squirmed whenever he thought about it. Some of the worse punishments he'd ever received had been because of his accidental magic.

"Severus, I need to speak to you in my office," said Madame Pomfrey, before Harry could respond to Snape's accusation. Snape frowned at her.

"Surely, Madame Pomfrey, you don't need me to . . ."

"Now, Severus."

It was almost funny to see Snape cowed by the matron. He gave off the air of a sulking child as he reluctantly followed her.

* * *

"What is so difficult about this that you have to talk to me in your office? Surely this is a clear cut case."

"No Severus, I'm afraid it's not."

She shoved a piece of paper under his nose. Taking it, Severus realized it was the spell's results. The spell they had cast showed not only the patient's current health, but also the patient's history for the previous two months.

_Severe abrasions on the neck_

_Welts and contusions on the back, arms, buttocks and thighs_

_Malnutrition_

_Severe muscle strain_

_Severe sunburn_

Severus didn't read the rest. He didn't need to. Putting the paper down, Severus massaged his forehead.

"Severus, you realize what this . . ."

"I'm well aware of what it means, woman!" he snapped. Agitated, Severus paced the length of the small office, mind turning in circles. If Potter was abused, as the diagnosis implied, it certainly put a new twist on Potter's actions the previous year.

"What were the results of his yearly examination, last year?"

Pomfrey quickly summoned a file with HARRY J. POTTER written on it. Flipping through it, Severus found plenty on the various injuries resulting from the boy's mishaps, but the yearly exam was not present.

"Madame Pomfrey, Potter's exam appears to be missing."

She frowned. "Well that's odd, I know I . . ." she stopped, a look of deep concentration on her face.

"Now that you mention it, I don't recall ever giving Mr. Potter his checkup."

All students at Hogwarts were required to have a yearly examination. Most from pureblood and half-blood families saw a healer outside of school and sent Pomfrey the relevant information. Muggleborns, on the other hand, were required to see Madam Pomfrey every year, within the first month of returning to Hogwarts. Coming from Muggle families, Muggleborn children never received important Wizarding vaccinations against diseases, such as Dragon Pox.

While Potter, having spent the first year of his life with his wizarding parents, had received most of his vaccinations, he would still need boosters and other treatments/medicine that a Muggle doctor simply could not provide.

"You forgot to give a student their yearly exam?!"

Pomfrey scowled at him "Be reasonable, Severus. I saw Potter enough last year, I must have thought I had given it to him. Besides, do you realize how many more Muggleborns there are in comparison to when I first started? I can barely keep up as it is!"

Being Head of Slytherin house he rarely was responsible for Muggleborns, not surprising given the mentality of Slytherin, but he had heard the other heads of house commenting on the number of children they had to give the examination notice to, year after year.

Either way, despite Potter not having a Wizarding medical examination, there should have at least been a few from Potter's Muggle doctor. Muggleborns were required to have their Muggle doctors send the information to an address that automatically forwarded it to Hogwarts. But, no, if it hadn't been for Potter's mishaps, his folder would have been empty.

A pattern was forming, one that Severus had seen before and always hoped to never see again.

"Regardless, this has to be dealt with, and we have left Mr. Potter waiting long enough."

"What are you planning on doing, exactly?" asked the Matron, quickly moving to block his path.

His nostrils flared, "I plan on questioning Potter about the injuries and determining if someone needs to interfere!"

With that Severus pushed past her. He would get to the bottom of this. For all they knew, Potter just got into lots of fights . . . with belts.

Truthfully, Severus didn't know what he'd do if Potter was abused, which was looking more and more likely. If it was true, his entire perception of the boy would be proven wrong, and that didn't sit well with Severus. But, despite his discomfort with admitting he was wrong. Severus couldn't let this slide by. No matter what his personal feelings, Potter was, not only a student, but a child, and no child deserved to suffer like this.

Entering the Hospital Wing, Severus found Potter still sitting nervously on the bed. How to do this? He really didn't think Potter would just admit to the abuse when asked._ Snape_ most certainly hadn't at that age. Perhaps it was just best to get it over with.

"Potter."

The boy jumped, despite the lack of usual malice in Severus's voice.

"Madame Pomfrey and I have examined the results of your test, and we have a few questions for you."

Potter's large, green eyes widened behind the black spectacles, and Severus decided to start easy with a simple question.

"Mr. Potter, when was the last time you received new glasses?"

"Erm . . . maybe about three years ago?"

"I see, and your aunt has not taken you to have the prescription updated?"

Potter frowned. "Prescription? She's never gotten me one of those. Is it a Wizarding thing?"

Severus resisted the urge to smirk. He had them.

"I see . . . where did your aunt purchase your glasses?"

"Dunno. She just comes home with them. Sir, can I ask what this is about?"

Severus ignored the question, thinking instead about how, in the first class, Potter sat in the very front row. Of course, once Potter realized Severus certainly wasn't a "fan" of his, the boy had sat at the very back of the class, where he and his friends were constantly whispering.

"One more question, Potter. The examination shows that, about two months ago, you had severe abrasions and welts on your back and arms. Tell me how you came by those injuries.

The boy froze; Severus could see the panic in his eyes.

"I . . . I fell."

Severus sighed. "Mr. Potter, I am not a fool. Marks such as the ones you had are not made by simply falling down stairs." he told Potter in a surprisingly gentle voice.

"Y-you're right, I . . . I got into a couple of fights. Happens all the time." The frantic quality in Potter's voice told an entirely different story. Potter's breaths started coming in short, painful gasps. _Damn it._

"Pomfrey! (Food for thought: Is this how Snape would refer to his colleague? "Poppy" may be too familiar, but he does use McGonagall and Dumbledore's first names) I need a calming draught!"

Quickly, the matron unlocked the cabinet and snatched the correct potion, before hurrying back to Severus's side. Together, they managed to get the potion down the boy's throat. As Potter's breath evened out, and his eyes drooped. Severus frowned; they hadn't given him more than a child's dose . . . but then, the child was clearly exhausted and underweight. Carefully, he and Madam Pomfrey fed Potter a nutrient potion, and transfigured his robes into night wear. By the time Madam Pomfrey tucked him in, he was asleep.

* * *

Authors note:

Thank you guys so much for all the reviews, although it does make me laugh that half the people want longer chapters and the other half wants quicker updates. Unfortunately I have college which takes precedent over fan fic (makes me cry) so either the chapters are longer or the updates come faster, sorry guys, wish it could be different. However thank you guys for your support and the incredible amount of reviews I get.

Until next time,

Zx14ninja


	5. Chapter 5

Beta'd by Emerald Ashes

* * *

He was standing in the kitchen, struggling to reach the too high stove. He knew that, if he dropped the heavy iron pan, the bacon would spill, and, then Aunt Petunia would be angry. The grease in the skillet popped and sizzled, burning his hand as it splashed up.

"Don't burn Duddies bacon, boy! How many times do I have to tell you?!" screeched Aunt Petunia.

"I'm trying," Harry muttered, but the stove kept growing taller and taller. Desperately, he attempted to save the frying pan. It had slipped out of his grasp, spitting down at him from the towering stovetop. If he could just jump a little higher . . . A hand grab him by the scruff of the neck, spinning him around to meet Uncle Vernon's purple face.

"You worthless . . . abnormal . . . freak!" With each word, Uncle Vernon violently shook Harry. Harry tried to explain that he was making breakfast, and that it would be done already if he could just see the stove. But Uncle Vernon wasn't listening. Instead, he was dragging Harry out of the kitchen and into the hall.

"I'll be good. I promise! Please, no, please!" Harry begged, tears streaming down his face. He didn't want to go back into the cupboard. Fear gripped his insides. Something was in the cupboard, something with terrifying, red eyes. Uncle Vernon, ignoring his cries, pulled the cupboard door open and thrust him inside.

"Only place for freaks like you!" Harry heard him snarl as the door slammed shut. Suddenly, the floor beneath him vanished and Harry was falling down, down, down. He landed in front of a mirror, and a two-faced man with a high, cold voice and horrifying red eyes stood over him.

"Kill him! Kill him!" screamed the red-eyed face.

Hands were around his throat. Harry struggled wildly.

"Potter, Potter, HARRY!"

Harry sat up with a jolt, gasping for breath and covered in sweat. For a moment, all he was aware of was his ragged breathing; then, he noticed the hands on his shoulders.

"Breathe, Potter. You are perfectly safe, even from me" came Snape's dry voice. Looking up into Snape's face, Harry almost thought he saw concern in his professor's dark gaze.

It was a few minutes before Harry regained control of his breathing. The hand Snape left on his shoulder was oddly comforting, giving Harry something to focus on other than his horrible relatives and the events of last year.

"Do you often have such violent dreams, Potter?" Snape asked when Harry had finally calmed down enough to speak.

Harry hesitated, but, he supposed it couldn't hurt to tell Snape. After all, the man had woken him up instead of leaving him trapped in the nightmare.

"Sometimes," Harry told his professor quietly.

"Sometimes? Perhaps you could be a bit more specific, Mr. Potter."

Harry shrugged. "Once or twice a week."

Snape sighed. "I see"

An awkward silence fell as Harry fidgeted with the blanket across his lap. What was Snape doing at his bedside, anyways? It made Harry nervous that Snape had been watching him sleep.

"When can I leave the Hospital Wing, Professor?" Harry finally asked.

"As soon as Madame Pomfrey deems you well enough to attend class." Some of the old snark had returned in to Snape's voice.

"But I feel fine, sir."

"Do not argue, Potter! You'll leave when Madame Pomfrey says you can."

Snape turned on his heels, robe billowing out behind him. He had almost reached the door when he stopped again.

"Potter . . . don't forget your detentions, and be sure to bring your books."

Harry gaped at him. A part of him was relieved Snape didn't mention the Dursley's, but, on the other hand, it was a bitter reminder that adults were unreliable.

In the end, Madame Pomfrey released him from the Hospital Wing right before breakfast; however, that didn't brighten Harry's day.

"You're banned from Quidditch until you get your weight up to normal."

"But, Madam Pomfrey . . ." Harry moaned.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but, it's really not healthy for you to play at your current weight. Goodness knows, I'm surprised you haven't been blown off your broom!"

Harry scowled at her, wishing he had Snape's ability to glare anyone into submission. Then again, that hadn't worked very well on Madame Pomfrey for him, either.

Just as she hadn't been fazed by Snape's glare, Madame Pomfrey wasn't impressed with Harry's.

"Don't give me that look, Mr. Potter. I assure you, it's for your own good, and, if you eat properly at every meal, you'll be back up playing dangerous sports in no time."

Yeah, right, given how touchy his stomach had become, that was never going to happen. Not that Harry intended to tell her that. If he did, he'd never get out of here.

"Is that all, Madame Pomfrey? Can I go now?" Harry asked instead. He was anxious to leave the Hospital Wing before people started asking more questions. Unfortunately, Madame Pomfrey caught his arm before he could make a run for it.

"Wait a moment, Harry,"

Harry turned and looked at her, exasperated.

"One last thing, Professor Snape and I have left the Notice-Me-Not spell, but, Harry, I would encourage you to come talk to one of the teachers or myself. We're here to help you." Madame Pomfrey had an imploring, almost pitying, look in her eyes.

Harry barely contained a snort of disbelief. "I'll keep that in mind. Can I go now?"

Madame Pomfrey sighed. "Oh, all right."

Harry didn't waste any time. He practically sprinted for the door to escape the Hospital Wing. He only slowed down when he arrived at the Great Hall. Looking around, Harry spotted Ron and Hermione.

"Where have you been?! Ron said you never came to bed, last night!" asked Hermione as he slid into the seat between his two friends.

"Later," Harry muttered. He could see Neville and Dean watching them curiously from across the table.

Harry had no desire to explain his trip to the Hospital Wing to anyone – not even Ron and Hermione. _Especially _not Ron and Hermione. If he told them, it would lead to questions he couldn't answer without outright lying. And, if he was honest, their reactions would be worse than if he told them the Dursleys wouldn't let him do homework. Hermione would most certainly go to McGonagall, and Ron, well, Harry wasn't sure what Ron would do. More than that, a part of Harry was desperately afraid that, if he told Ron and Hermione, they would no longer be friends with him.

He'd seen it happen to a kid in primary school. The boy was removed from his family for "suspicious" reasons, according to Aunt Petunia when Harry overheard her warning Dudley to stay away from such "bad influences." Of course, she'd looked directly at Harry when she said it.

In an effort to ignore the curious and slightly worried glances of his friends, Harry focused on his plate. His stomach gave an awful turn. He was so stressed over the whole incident with Snape that he didn't think he could stomach the dry toast he'd placed on it.

Wood was going to kill him when he found out Harry was no longer allowed to play Quidditch. Lately, Hogwarts wasn't the sanctuary it had been. Harry felt as if he was under constant pressure to be something he wasn't. People expected him to be like his parents – brilliant at school like his mum, or great at Quidditch and a trouble maker like his dad. But nobody seemed to understand that it was really difficult to be like someone you couldn't remember. More than anything, Harry just wanted to be himself.

With a heavy heart, Harry attempted to choke down some of the toast, only managing a few bits before he felt fuller than ever.

Thankfully, the day only consisted of charms and DADA. Ever since the disaster with the Pixies, Lockheart had limited himself to acting out scenes from his books. Sadly, this meant that Harry was often called upon to play a part. It was utterly humiliating.

By the time Harry's detention rolled around, he had successfully managed to avoid telling Ron and Hermione about the Hospital Wing, though not for lack of trying on his friend's part.

So, claiming Snape wanted him there early, Harry shoved his books into his bag and bolted from the common before Hermione could start in on it.

"Harry, wait up."

Looking back, Harry saw Ron jogging after him. Reluctantly, he slowed down to allow his friend to catch up.

"Look," Ron began once he was level with Harry, "I know something going on with you."

"I . . ." started Harry, but Ron held up his hand.

"Just listen to me for a sec."

Swallowing, Harry nodded.

"Hermione and I know something bother you, Harry. You've been all out of sorts since, well, since we met at the train station, and, Harry, we're worried about you, mate."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He knew what Ron was asking him; he just wasn't sure if he'd ever be ready to confide in his friends.

"I don't know if I can talk about it," he whispered.

Ron patted him on the shoulder.

"Then just know we're here for you, mate, whenever you're ready."

Harry felt his throat tighten at Ron's words, and his eyes burned strangely, yet, at the same time, a warm, happy feeling was rising in the pit of his stomach. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like crying. He'd learned early in life that tears didn't make anything better for people like him. When Dudley cried, he got whatever he wanted. When Harry cried, all he got was a swift, hard cuff to the back of the head along with a sharp, "Shut up, boy!"

Harry hadn't cried since he was five-years-old. At first, it was in the hopes that his Aunt and Uncle would see that he wasn't a "wishy-washy freak". Soon, his dry eyes were instead out of spite because Harry refused to give his relatives the satisfaction of knowing they'd hurt him.

It took some effort to shove back the long forgotten sensation of tears, now. How pathetic it would look if Harry started crying like a baby over something so sentimental. He would never live it down. Once Harry was sure he could speak without his voice giving away his emotional state, he mustered a smile and said, "Thanks, Ron."

Ron grinned at him. "No problem, mate, and you'd better get to detention before Snape decides to assign you more."

* * *

"Enter," Severus called at the timid knock on his office door. Potter shuffled inside, clutching his bag, the very picture of nervousness.

The sight of him brought up the issue Severus had been fighting with since discovering the almost certain abuse the child suffered from. It had taken a while to convince Madame Pomfrey not to go straight to Professor Dumbledore. The problem was that they lacked definite proof, at least until Potter admitted to the abuse or someone witnessed it. The headmaster and older teachers meant well. They truly did care for the students, but, the problem was that Wizarding society tended to be very far behind the Muggle world in terms of progressive thinking.

Since Wizards lived such long lives, older wizard such as Professor Dumbledore, just didn't understand the effects of abuse, or even what constituted abuse. Indeed, most couldn't conceive of abuse between blood relations. Some of the more strict purebloods even view abuse as well-deserved punishment. There were no laws in the Ministry for the protection of children, and no establishment to ensure the welfare of children that were abused or displaced. An orphaned child either went to the closest blood relative or a family friend; failing that, most ended up in Muggle orphanages.

Cases of abuse were treated as overreactions or exaggerations. What they failed to recognize was that bonds of blood didn't necessarily equate to love or even affection. Severus knew better. He was all too aware of the cruelty that could come from a family member.

Unfortunately, this meant that there was very little he or Madam Pomfrey could do for Potter. There was no guarantee that, even if Potter admitted his relatives abused him, Dumbledore would take it seriously. The headmaster valued the blood wards that protected Potter from _outside _dangers as of the utmost importance.

Still, the best chance Severus had of helping Potter was to get him talking about his home life. Severus had a feeling it would be easier to talk down a raging werewolf.

Well, he had to start somewhere. According to McGonagall, Potter had come to Hogwarts without any supplies or completing his summer homework. Perhaps, if he could use detention time to catch up, the boy might be more inclined to let details of his home life slip.

"Sit down, Mr. Potter. You won't be scrubbing today."

Potter sat down, still looking nervous, and did not pull out his books. Severus sighed. The animosity he'd fostered between himself and Potter might just prove to be too much for them to overcome. For the child's sake, he had to try.

"Did you bring your books?" Severus asked, trying to keep his impatience at Potter's lack of understanding out of his voice.

"Yes, sir."

Still he did not pull out his books.

"Well? Get started then. Your head of house tells me you're very behind. Surely you have work?" The sharp quality in Severus's voice made Potter jump and Severus cursed. This was not going well.

Potter quickly pulled out his books and started on a partly-finished essay. Looking at it from over his desk, Severus hoped it wasn't the one he'd set for potions. He wouldn't be able to read it.

Then again, Potter could barely see, given his appalling glasses. It was a true testament to his skill as a Seeker that the boy managed to find the Snitch at all.

"Potter, come here." The boy jumped again, nearly upsetting his ink bottle. Did he really inspire such fear in the child? It didn't bode well, if that was the case. Obediently, Potter came to stand in front of his desk.

"May I see your glasses?"

Potter stared at him, then slowly took off the spectacles and handed them over. Severus studied them for a few seconds. It was clear that the glasses were reaching the end of their life. He could see several loose screws, numerous scratches on the lenses and, when he tapped them with his wand to place a temporary enhancement charm on them, nothing happened. Severus frowned, certain that he'd done the charm correctly.

"How often do you repair these, Potter?"

Potter shrugged. "Sometimes once a month, if the screws fall out. More during the Quidditch season."

"These are next to useless, Mr. Potter. You require new ones."

The boy swallowed. "I . . . Aunt Petunia . . ."

The distress on the child's face was horrible. Without the glasses to obscure his brilliant green eyes, Severus was forced to face them head on.

"Do not be concerned, Potter. I'm sure something can be arranged."

"B-but, sir! Those have been fine, and-and my relatives, they won't like it."

"And why won't they like it, Mr. Potter? It is appallingly obvious that you are in need of a new pair of glasses, immediately, and besides, Wizarding methods of improving eye sight are much more effective than Muggle."

Potter bit his lip, twisting his hands together nervously. It was obvious Potter was trying to come up with the correct words to salvage the situation.

Finally, he said, "I can't get new glasses now, anyways, sir. I don't know where I would get them."

"Do not concern yourself with that. I will make the necessary arrangements by tomorrow."

Potter gaped at him. When he had regained some of his composure, the boy asked, "Why?"

Ignoring the lack of "sir," Severus sat back in his chair, examining Potter with a critical eye before answering.

"Because no child should be without proper necessities and," – a smirk came over the Potion's Master's face – "because I hope to see an improvement in the legibility of your essays."

Comprehension dawned on Potter's face. "I'm not sure new glasses would fix that, sir. I've never been able to figure out how to use the quills without getting ink everywhere."

The smirk slid off of Severus's face. He hadn't considered the difficulties Muggleborn students must have when they came to Hogwarts without even the rudimentary skills of using a quill. Now that he thought about it, with the exception of Granger, the essays with the absolute worst handwriting usually came from Muggleborns.

"Did no one teach you the proper way to use a quill, during your first year?"

Potter shrugged. "Ron tried to show me how, but he's really not the greatest of teachers, and Hermione's a bit too bossy," he said, blushing slightly.

Severus fought down an amused chuckle. With a slight flick of his wand, a chair flew over to where Potter was standing.

"Sit down, Potter. At the very least, I can remedy your abysmal penmanship."

Maybe Severus just imagined it, but he could have sworn he saw a slight smile blossom on Harry's face.

* * *

Author's Note

*collapses from exhaustion and aching wrists* Haha! Look! Almost 3,000 words! It's a miracle! Of course this long of a chapter probably won't happen too often I'm afraid. Snow days really helped out to give me time to type and I don't think I'll have many more of those. Anyway thank you so much for all the reviews! Over a hundred already! I couldn't believe it when I saw that.

Now I want to put in a few explanations for why Severus could see through the notice-me-not-spell. He actually couldn't at first he only started being able to see through the spell when Harry collapsed in detention because his magic briefly stopped powering the spell. Because the spell isn't a full glamor spell once you've seen past it you don't notice it again. Madame Pomfrey never could see the spell, she simply trusted Severus.

One other thing, Dumbledore and McGonagall are not going to be evil, just from a very old fashioned culture.

Until next time,

Zx14ninja


	6. Chapter 6

When Harry left detention that night, he felt lighter than he ever had before. He knew that it wouldn't last; by tomorrow Snape would be back to his usual greasy git self. But still, no one had ever bothered to help him when he was struggling. Even in primary school, the teachers were only helpful until they deemed Harry a troublemaker who got into "fights" with perfect Dudley. Never mind that it was_ Harry_ who was battered and bruised while Dudley didn't even have a scratch.

Harry suspected that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had furthered the impression that he was a delinquent during parent-teacher conferences. Thinking about the sheer injustice of it all made Harry's blood boil, and he made a conscience effort to shove it too the back of his brain. The week was also over, he was nearly caught up on his homework, and next Friday was Halloween. The only dark spot was that he was still having trouble with his stomach. Harry knew he should probably see Madam Pomfrey about the issue, but he was reluctant after his last visit to the nurse.

"_If it hasn't gotten better by Halloween, I'll see her,"_ he promised himself.

By Saturday, Harry had completely forgotten Snape's promise to take him to get his glasses fixed. His last few detentions were spent working on homework, with the occasional input of the Potion's Master Even though the odd truce between the two continued, Snape made no more mention of Harry's relatives or his glasses. So he was surprised when Hedwig flew in with the other owls during the morning mail, a letter clutched in her beak.

"Who's the letter from?" asked Ron, looking at the envelope curiously. Harry shrugged. Breaking the seal, he pulled out the letter, immediately recognizing the spidery handwriting he often saw decorating his Potions essays.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_You will meet me in the entrance hall at 10 o'clock so that I may escort you to Hogsmeade for your Optometrist appointment and to complete your school supplies shopping. Do not be late._

_Professor Snape_

Harry gaped at the letter. Snape was taking him to an appointment and to get his supplies? Snape? Admittedly, Snape had been oddly decent of late, but Harry wasn't keen on going with him to a place he'd only vaguely heard of, much less a _doctor's_ appointment. Aunt Petunia had only taken Harry to the doctor's once to receive all his inoculations for school.

Harry tried not to think about the traumatic experience. The doctor in question hadn't even paused in between the painful shots, and, when Harry cried, the cruel man told him to shut up and take it like a man. Afterwards, his arm hurt for a good two weeks, injection spots turned red, and black bruises formed. Needless to say, Harry feared doctors. The only reason he didn't mind Madam Pomfrey was because of the numerous times she'd patched him up, and, even then, he'd never see her willingly.

"Everything all right, Harry?" asked Hermione, frowning with concern.

Quickly, Harry shoved the letter into his bag.

"Fine. Just a note from McGonagall about my school supplies," he told her. Ron nodded, clearly satisfied with Harry's answer, but Hermione didn't appear convinced. Thankfully, she didn't say anything, and, at 10 o'clock, Harry waved goodbye to his friends and headed out to the Entrance Hall.

Snape was waiting for him. The sight of the Potion's Master made Harry's already sensitive stomach squirm. He approached cautiously, tensing for a barb about his timeliness, despite being on time.

"Ah, there you are, Mr. Potter. Ready to depart?" Snape asked when Harry tentatively attracted his attention. Harry nodded, unable to speak because he was overcome with nerves. Turning on his heel, Snape set off at a brisk walk to the entrance doors, leaving Harry to catch up with him.

"Normally, students are not allowed into the village of Hogsmeade until third year, and then only with parental permission. However, given your circumstances, for today, you will be allowed."

Harry nodded again. He found it odd that the Head of Slythern House was accompanying him instead of Professor McGonagall, but Harry wasn't about to ask why. Truthfully, McGonagall wasn't much of a "hands on" head of house. Harry had never seen her in the common room and the stern woman was rather intimidating to approach about a problem. After last year, when the professor refused to listen to him and his friends, Harry was even more reluctant to ask Professor McGonagall for help. He feared that, since she had pushed aside a concern as important the theft of an object that could bring back Voldemort, his personal problems were even more likely to be dismissed.

"Hurry up, Mr. Potter, there is much to do and little time for dawdling." Harry jumped, realizing that, during his contemplations, he'd fallen behind Snape.

"Sorry, sir!" he panted, jogging to catch up. Shaking his head, Snape started off again with Harry following close on his heels.

Getting the other teachers and staff to agree that Harry Potter required a trip to Hogsmeade for supplies and new glasses was not an easy task, Severus discovered. In fact, when he first suggested it, his colleagues stared at him blankly.

"A trip to Hogsmeade?" Dumbledore said finally with a note of confusion in his voice.

"Harry Potter?" said McGonagall in the same tone.

"Yes, I believe that is what I'm suggesting," Severus responded, barely holding his impatience in check.

"Forgive me, Severus, but are you quite sure you're well?" the Headmaster asked. Severus growled in frustration.

"Yes, I am in excellent health, which has nothing to do with the fact that your golden boy has arrived to Hogwarts ill prepared," he snapped

Again, blank stares. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. Merlin, he got enough of this from the dunderheads he taught.

"I fail to see how this is your concern, Severus," said McGonagall.

"Well, it wouldn't be my concern if you would take care of it!"

He drew a few calming breaths. Letting his temper get away from him would not help. His plan was to ease the two into the idea of Potter's abuse. Manipulation was key. When confronted with something head on, Gyffindors do one of two things: they charge in blindly or they deny it. The trick was to convince them that they had come to the conclusion themselves. If worst came to worst, Severus would simply present them with Madam Pomfrey's report, and the evidence he'd seen in the way Potter reacted.

McGonagall opened her mouth, likely to berate him, but the headmaster but his hand on her arm. That damned twinkle was back in his sharp, blue eyes. Suddenly Severus wasn't so sure he was the one doing the manipulating.

"Very well, Severus. If you feel so strongly about the matter, then, by all means, escort Harry to Hogsmeade for his supplies."

"But Albus . . ." began McGonagall.

"No, Minerva, if Severus has decided to form a connection with Harry, than I believe we should do our best to encourage it."

Severus spluttered, "A-a connection? Preposterous! I am simply tired of seeing his blatant flaunting of school rules!"

Dumbledore simply smiled, clearly patronizing him. In response, Severus sneered; he should have known the old coot would come up with something like this.

"I'll send Potter a note about the arrangements," he growled before storming out of the room. Forming a connection? Him and _Potter_? The idea was laughable. He was doing nothing more than his duty to any child in the school.

_And yet_, whispered a voice in his head that sounded like Lily_, instead of passing the boy over to his head of house or Dumbledore, you've decided to take care of the matter yourself._

"_Only because I'm not sure they'll believe me_," he argued back.

But it was a flimsy excuse, at best. Truthfully, the scan would probably have been enough to at least move the Headmaster and McGonagall to inquire. They may be old fashioned and a bit naive, but they cared about Harry.

So why hadn't he? Severus remembered those vulnerable, green eyes and knew exactly why he hadn't gone to Dumbledore or McGonagall.

Damn that old man for always being right.

Despite the revelation that he might possibly want to form some kind of relationship with Harry-bloody- Potter, Severus resolved not to let it affect his interactions with the boy. There was no point in pursing any type of relationship with the child, since it was unlikely Potter would ever be interested in getting to know the "Greasy Dungeon Bat." Who would be? _Lily_ was the immediate answer, but Severus pushed it aside gratefully when Potter showed up to distract him from his thoughts.

Potter, however, seemed as distracted as he was, wearing a look of deep concentration and thought on his face. Severus hoped he was considering opening up to someone about his clearly abusive past and not mischief.

The walk to Hogsmeade wasn't necessarily long; Severus often found it rather pleasant on a warm day such as this one, but Potter, much smaller and malnourished, soon became tired. His feet dragged just a bit as he struggled to keep up with his teacher's longer strides. Noticing the child's problem, Severus discreetly slowed his pace.

"We'll visit the optometrist and then have a quick lunch at the Three Broomsticks."

Potter nodded absentmindedly, more interested in looking around Hogsmeade. The child's head turned one way and then the other, trying to take in everything at once. Severus sighed in exasperation. Normally, he'd have snapped at Potter by now and told him to stop gaping like an idiot. Instead, he simply laid a hand on the boy's shoulder to prevent him from running into something.

The optometrist was situated a little ways off of the main shopping district of Hogsmeade. The small building, denoted by a pair of eyes that swiveled to watch the few passersby, was quaint. Potter found the enchanted eyes terribly amusing as they had a tendency to leer at those passing. Severus scowled when Potter giggled softly at the eyes theatric rolls ignoring the fact that he too found the eyes appealing.

"Come, Potter," he called again when the boy showed signs of wanting to stop and watch the eyes making an assortment of ridiculous faces. "It would not be polite to keep Healer Davis waiting."

Reluctantly, Harry turned away from the sign. Approaching Severus the childish amusement drained from his face, leaving it chalk white and pinched. Against his will, Severus felt sympathy rise in his chest, which he quickly pushed aside as he ushered the child through the door.

Healer Davis was a large man, slightly taller than Severus and far broader. The muscular arms and legs and large hands seemed out of place for a man who worked on such a delicate part of the body. He might have even been intimidating, had it not been for his relaxed manner and gentle, blue eyes. Even so, Severus felt Potter stiffen at the sight of the Healer. Unsurprised, Severus didn't bother to reassure him as it was likely to make Potter more nervous. In Severus's experience, children like Potter learned from actions, not words.

"Ah! Professor Snape, I see you've brought the student you wanted me to look at," said the Healer cheerfully.

"Yes," said Severus, pushing Harry forward. "Healer Davis, this is Harry Potter. Potter, Healer Davis, he'll be performing your eye examination."

To Davis's credit, he didn't give Potter's scar more than a cursory glance before leading him over to the examination chair.

"Have you ever received a magical eye exam, Harry?" Davis asked.

Potter shook his head as he sat gingerly on the chair.

"Well, not to worry. It isn't much different from a Muggle exam."

"But, I haven't had one of those, either!" Potter blurted out, looking positively terrified. Healer Davis paused, shooting Severus a loaded glance. This was why Severus preferred to bring abused children to Davis; for all his size, the Healer was remarkably gentle and quick to put frightened children at ease. He was also perceptive and, most importantly, knew how to keep his mouth shut. The last thing Severus wanted was to see a _Daily_ Prophet headliner that read, "Boy-Who-Lived Abused by Muggle Relatives!" No child deserved to have that spewed across the morning paper.

Feeling confident that Healer Davis would not betray them, Severus nodded slightly. The Healer's face darkened before he turned back to Potter.

"That's quite all right. Can you tell me how you got these glasses?"

Harry shrugged. "The teachers and nurse complained I couldn't see so Aunt Petunia got them out of a neighbor's trash."

Severus winced at the casualness of the statement while Davis stiffened. Sensing their disapproval, the boy continued quickly, stammering, "They worked fine after a few days. Aunt Petunia probably didn't think I needed to get an eye exam."

"Easy, Harry, you are not in trouble," assured Davis.

"Oh," Potter murmured, looking away before asking, "Will it hurt?"

"No, at worst, I may make your eye sting a little."

Potter nodded, clearly not believing but brave enough to continue.

"_Or perhaps just resigned"_ Severus thought, watching as Davis set up for the examination.

"Now, the first thing I'm going to do is check the strength of your vision. Would you please remove your glasses?"

Once the glasses were removed the healer gave a short wave of his wand, causing a series of letters in deceasing size to appear on the wall opposite.

"What is the smallest line you can read?"

"I-" – Potter squinted hopelessly at the wall – "I- can't you just wave your wand and see how bad it is?" he asked desperately.

Chuckling, Davis shook his head. "I could, Harry, but the spell is not always accurate, and it works best if I have a general idea of the strength of prescription you will need."

Biting his lip, Potter turned back to the letters, squinting hard. Finally he said "C, A, F no! E, D?"

The fourth line from the top and he'd missed one letter; the last one was an O, not D. While Severus wasn't an expert on James Potter, by any means, he did know that Harry's eyesight was worse than his father's had ever been

"Very good, Harry," said Davis.

The ashamed, downcast look on the child's face changed instantly at the praise, and the boy smiled tentatively.

"Now, the next thing I'm going to do is cast a spell that will help me pinpoint the exact prescription you will need."

Several swishes of the Healer's wand later, Potter let out an amazed gasp.

"Oh! Everything is so much clearer!" the boy exclaimed, green eyes wide. Severus feared the boy would give himself whiplash with the speed he turned his head to take in the room.

Smiling, Davis allowed Harry a few moments to marvel at the change before calling him back into focus.

"Just a few more tests and, then, you can choose a pair of glasses, all right?"

"But-I mean, is there a way to make this permanent?" he asked, Severus could hear the hope in his voice.

"There is a rather expensive potion which does restore eye sight; however, it's only truly effective on adults whose vision has been constant for at least two years," Davis told him.

Clearly disappointed, Potter nodded.

"Don't work, Harry. I'm sure we'll find some dashing glasses for you," encouraged the Healer as he set up for the next test, dimming the lights and summoning a few potions.

"Here we are Harry. This potion will dilate your eyes for me."

"Dilate?" Potter asked, holding the potion nervously.

"At night or when you're in a dark room, your pupils become larger to allow more light in so you can see better. This potion does that for me. Dilating your eyes allows me to examine the structure of your eye better," Davis explained with far more patience than Severus ever possessed when dealing with children.

Potter still looked skeptical but downed the potion any way, face screwed up in distaste. With a sympathetic smile, Davis allowed the child a sip of water to wash the taste from his mouth before continuing.

The Healer took Potter through a serious of tests – from shining a lit wand into Potter's eyes to examining them from the inside using a complicated spell. Once finished, he had Potter drink the antidote to the dilating potion and restored the lights.

"There you are, Harry. Why don't you go pick out some glasses?" As the child headed off, Davis turned to Severus.

"I hope you've had him removed from the idiots taking care of him, Professor Snape," the Healer began, looking grim.

"I am in the process. What did you find?"

"Well, the strain on his eyes from trying to see through inadequate eyewear has damaged his eyes, but the damage would have been minimal if it hadn't been for several severe blows he's taken to the back of the head."

Severus cursed softly, not taking his eyes off the small boy currently trying on a pair of color-changing glasses. Harry was clearly enjoying trying on the most ridiculous glasses he could find. Soon, it became clear that the boy favored a pair of thin, gold-rimmed glasses which featured a tiny golden snitch zooming up and down on both ear wires. Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. After all, the glasses were age appropriate, and Harry obviously loved them.

"I take it those are the ones you want, Mr. Potter?" Severus asked as the child admired the glasses in the mirror for the fourth time.

Potter paused. "They're probably expensive sir. I'll just get the cheapest pair. I'd just lose or break them anyway," said Harry sadly, carefully putting the glasses away.

"That is what self-repairing, unbreakable and tracking charms are for, Mr. Potter, and money is not an issue, I assure you."

"But—"

"It is not up for discussion."

When Potter opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue, Severus fixed him with his sternest glare.

"How long before they are ready?"

"Hour or two. Do you want them sent up to the castle, or are you planning on doing more shopping?"

"The latter, we'll stop by and pick them up when we are done."

Davis nodded. "Have a pleasant day, Professor Snape, Harry."

Harry waved as Severus led him out of the shop.

Author's note,

Hello! I'm baaaaack! College is over and now I only have work, which, by the way is seriously cutting in to my motorcycle riding time which makes zx14ninja sad. Anyway on things you do care about, I have to admit, writing fanfiction is cutting into my time writing on a book I hope to one day publish (writing fanfic is sooooo much easier and has instant gratification in the form of reviews!) so I'm I might not get up a chapter as soon as I like, I also have essays for scholarships (blah) that I need to write (why can't there be a fanfic writing scholarship? I'd totally be for that!"). On the bright side this chapter his longer than any chapter I've ever written (Yeah!). Thank you to all who stuck with me through the hiatus, I'm up to 247 reviews, more than I ever thought possible, it really means a lot to me. I hope you enjoyed that chapter.

Until next time,

Zx14ninja


	7. Chapter 7

Beta'd by Emerald Ashes

* * *

Since it wasn't a Hogsmeade weekend for the students, the Three Broomsticks was full but not packed like it usually was during student visits. The lack of people allowed Severus to secure a table at the back of the room, away from most of the other patrons of the pub. Potter seemed to marvel at the pub almost as much as he did the shops around him. Severus couldn't help but wonder how often he'd eaten at a restaurant. He had a feeling it wasn't very often, if ever.

"Well, well, if it isn't Severus Snape!" called a throaty voice. A dark haired witch made her way over to their table, smiling broadly.

Severus nodded curtly to her. "Madam Rosmerta."

Unperturbed by his icy demeanor, she smiled.

"So! What brings you to my pub? Haven't seen you since you were a lad. Hear you're a professor up at the school now," she said, and Severus resisted the urge to sigh. Madam Rosmerta was a kind witch, but she had always favored the Marauders. He was surprised she had even recognized him.

"I am indeed employed at the school, as the Potions Master, and I'm escorting a student to pick up supplies that his family neglected to purchase for him." Severus said coolly with a nod to Potter. He hoped she would pick up on his reluctance to discuss the matter, but no such luck. Madam Rosmerta's eyes had immediately darted to the famous scar on the boy's forehead. Potter noticed her gaze, ducking his head, cheeks bright red.

"You're escorting Harry Potter?" she asked, curiosity in her voice. Severus glowered at her.

"Yes, now, may we order?" he asked impatiently, unwilling to discuss the matter with her.

"Fine, fine, goodness, you haven't changed a bit, what can I get for you m'dears?" she asked with a slight wave of her hand.

"I'll have the shepherd's pie with a small salad and just water to drink," The professor ordered.

"And you dear?" she asked, turning to Potter. The child swallowed, looking uncomfortable.

"Um, can I just get a salad?"

Severus and Rosemerta stared at him. A salad? What twelve-year-old ate salads?

"If you get a main course to go with your salad, you may," said Severus

"I'm really not that hungry." Harry told them, a slight green tinged to his face.

Severus turned back to Rosemerta. "Hold those orders."

She nodded. "Right you are. Take yer time; I'm in no rush," she assured them before slipping back into the crowded pub.

Potter watched her go, surprised. "You could have ordered, sir, I wouldn't have minded."

Severus shook his head. "First, we need to address your deplorable appetite. Don't think I haven't noticed that you still barely touch your food during meal times. I wish to know why."

Subconsciously, the boy rubbed his stomach.

"I've just not been hungry," he whispered, fiddling with the menu.

"Mr. Potter, please look at me."

Reluctantly the child met his eyes, and the teacher leaned forward slightly.

"I cannot help you if you do not tell me what is wrong."

For a moment, Severus thought Potter would shout at him. He saw anger in the boy's green eyes, no doubt born from years of adults failing to provide any aid. Severus knew the feeling; he'd been far more volatile at that age than Harry was. But, as soon as he saw it, the anger was gone, replaced by resignation and confusion.

"Why do you care?"

It was a loaded question – not so much why would he, Severus Snape, care, but why would anyone care? Severus could have told him it was his duty or his responsibility as a teacher, but the words wouldn't leave his mouth. Instead, he said something much closer to the truth.

"I care, Mr. Potter, because all children deserve to be cared for, yourself included."

* * *

Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of Snape's statement, particularly since he hadn't expected Snape to answer. His cheeks heated up again, this time with unexpected pleasure instead of embarrassment. He wasn't sure why he found Snape's answer reassuring. It wasn't as if Snape had declared he cared about Harry. Harry wasn't even sure why it mattered if Snape cared for him or not.

"You still have not answered me, Mr. Potter. Why are you continuing to not eat?"

Fidgeting, Harry considered his options. He could continue to lie, claim that he was fine and would eat more, but Snape always seemed to know when he was lying. Or he could tell the truth and admit that he was having trouble.

After a moment's thought, he mumbled, "It's not a big deal really. It's just that, when I try to eat, I always end up throwing it up again." He practically whispered the last few words, slightly alarmed by the look on Snape's face. It was clear Snape was barely controlling his anger.

"And why did you not tell Madam Pomfrey or I, Mr. Potter?" the professor asked.

Harry cringed. "I just . . . this happened last year too! Took me months to get used to Hogwarts food, although I didn't have so much trouble keeping the food down."

A few treacherous tears rose into the corners of Harry's eyes, but he forced them back. He would not cry in front of Snape like a baby.

"I thought it would go away," Harry admitted, hating the slight tremble in his voice.

Snape sighed and said in a much softer voice. "I understand your reasoning, Mr. Potter. However, this could be a symptom of a much more serious problem, and, even if it is not, Madam Pomfrey or I can supply you with potions to shorten the adjustment period."

Harry's gaped at him. He hadn't expected Snape to care or to offer a solution. Whenever he had felt ill at the Dursleys, they either told him to suck it up or locked him in the cupboard to prevent him from contaminating the rest of the family.

"Really?" he whispered, "you would do that for me?"

Snape nodded. "Did I not just say I would?"

Suddenly unable to speak, Harry nodded even though he was sure Snape hadn't actually wanted an answer.

"Then, when we return to Hogwarts, you will accompany me to the Hospital Wing to determine what the problem is and what the best course of treatment will be," Snape told him. Harry had to bite back a groan at the mention of another trip to the Hospital Wing.

"In the meantime," Snape continued, "perhaps something light, such as pasta, would suite your needs."

At Harry's nodded, he gestured from Madam Rosmerta to return.

"Got it all sorted out, then?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter will have the pasta, light on the sauce, and," – Snape looked at Harry – "perhaps a butterbeer."

Rosemerta chuckled. "Always knew ya hada heart Severus. I'll be back with your orders in a jiffy."

Harry discovered that Snape was right. The pasta was delicious, and the butterbeer was even better, warming his insides pleasantly. It was the most he'd managed to keep down in days. After they finished, they said goodbye to Madame Rosemerta, who made Snape promise to visit the pub every once in a while, and headed off to their next stop, Gladrags.

"Just make sure you chose colors other than red and gold," was all the professor said as they approached the cheerful looking shop.

Surprisingly, Harry was not actually partial to his house colors. Oh, he liked them well enough, but, honestly, blue had always been his favorite color. The color was soothing, and it reminded him of his baby blanket – a blue, crocheted blanket with his name stitched in the corner. He suspected his mother had made it, though no one ever told him, for sure. Harry remembered how sad he'd been when Aunt Petunia threw it away, declaring the blanket disgusting and grubby. He'd cried for hours afterwards. Of course, Harry didn't mention any of this to his professor; instead, he just shrugged.

A short little wizard greeted them at the door. His smile only seemed to grow larger when Snape told him that Harry needed a full wardrobe – including pants, shirts, robes, undergarments, and sleepwear. Harry blushed madly by the time Snape finished the list.

"Come along then, we'll get you all sorted out!" the little man cried gleefully, ignoring his discomfort. With the exception of school robes, Harry had never been clothes shopping in his life, and he quickly discovered that it was a most unpleasant experience. The tailor forced him try on a seemingly endless pile of clothes, some of which were dismissed for no apparent reason, and others approved in a similar fashion. The experience reminded Harry a bit of when he received his wand, the only difference being that at least then he'd been able to tell when a wand worked and when it didn't.

The only clothing Harry really took an interest in was the socks. Gladrags sold a variety of fascinating socks; socks that changed colors, socks with moving pictures, socks that yelled. Harry particularly liked the socks with moving, fire-breathing dragons and, of course, the Quiddich socks.

"Those as well, sir?" asked the tailor when he noticed Harry looking at them.

Harry shook his head. "Just the black socks will be fine."

Snape, who'd been quiet since they entered the store, reached around Harry and plucked both of the socks from the display.

"Add them to the purchase," he told the tailor.

When Harry was finally declared done by the small tailor, he breathed a sigh of relief. Clothes's shopping was definitely not one of his favorite activities. As he watched Snape pay for the purchase, he realized that he had no clue as to how he was going to pay the school. Before Harry had a chance to ask, Snape whisked him off to the next store, this time for potions equipment and supplies.

Harry found the local apothecary and cauldron shop, Potage's Cauldron Shop, to be fascinating, if not a bit creepy. He'd actually looked forward to Potions before the disastrous first class with Snape. Even then, he'd tried his hardest. Potions after all, was similar to cooking, and Harry had been cooking since he was five-years-old.

But Harry had soon realized that, between Malfoy's sabotage, Ron's distractions and Snape's hatred, it was pointless to put in the effort. It was a shame, really.

Harry actually could have higher grades in all his classes, but Uncle Vernon had long made it clear what happened to "boys who don't know their place." Harry shuddered, trying not to think about what happened the last time he came home with better grades than Dudley.

"Are you well, Mr. Potter?"

Harry jumped, realizing he'd been gazing off into space from the past few seconds.

"I'm fine, Professor," Harry assured him.

Snape fixed him with that assessing look again before nodding.

"What other supplies are you lacking, Mr. Potter?" the professor asked.

"Um, I'm missing a few of the Lockhart books – I didn't have enough money left over from last year to buy all of them – and I need some new quills, ink and parchment, if that's all right, sir?"

Eyebrows raised, Snape asked, "You had enough money from the previous term to buy most of your books? I must say I'm impressed, Mr. Potter, most eleven-year-olds would not have possessed that type of restraint."

Harry frowned at his teacher. "It's not like I had a lot to spend it on, sir, other than the trolley cart. Besides I have to save up. The Dursleys sure aren't going to pay for my school things." There was increasing hostility in his voice, and Harry knew he was pushing it in terms of Snape's patience. Snape seemed surprised, whether by Harry's attitude or his answer, he couldn't tell.

"Watch your tone, Mr. Potter."

The rebuke wasn't as harsh as he expected. It was practically kind compared to Snape's normal malice-laced voice and scathing remarks when it came to Harry.

"Sorry, sir," Harry muttered, examining his worn, too big trainers. His big toe stuck out through a hole in the left shoe.

"I see we should add new shoes to that list, as well," Snape said with a soft sigh.

Looking back up at the Potions Master, Harry stuttered, "I-I guess. I mean, it's just, this is quite a lot, and I'm not sure all the money in my vault will cover it."

Snape fixed Harry with a searching look before saying, "It will be unnecessary for you to pay for any of this, Mr. Potter. The school will cover a certain amount. Anything else I will cover myself."

Severus Snape? Pay for his supplies? Suspicion raged inside Harry. In his experience, nothing was free, especially if it was offered by an adult.

"But sir! I can't let you . . ." he began, but Snape cut him off.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I believe you can. Children should not have to pay for their own necessities. The vault you currently have access to was probably intended as pocket money for your time at Hogwarts – a kind of allowance, if you will."

Harry simply goggled at him. Pocket money?! The vault was intended to be used as pocket money?

"Are you saying, sir, that my mum and dad left me more than just that vault at Gringotts?"

Snape looked about ready to start in on him when the professor stopped, gazing at Harry with a strange look on his face.

"Mr. Potter, it is well known that your father's family was an old and wealthy family, on par with, if not greater than, the Malfoy's. You will likely gain access to it when you come of age," the professor informed him softly.

Harry found he couldn't speak. He had enough money to match the Malfoys? For a moment, he was elated, thinking of all the ways he could rub it in the pointy Slytherine's face. Then he remembered Ron, whose family was so poor, yet rich in love. He'd give away all the gold in the world to be a part of a family like the Weasleys.

"Come, Mr. Potter, we still have items you require," he heard Snape say, steering him towards the next shop.

The shock of discovering his claim to another fortunate was enough to distract Harry from further nagging about money at their next stop, Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. Harry ended up purchasing several boxes of standard quills and parchment, and also, at Snape's insistence, two specialty quills that were charmed to help Muggleborns cope with the old fashioned writing tool.

From there, they headed to Tomes and Scrolls to pick up the rest of Lockheart's books. The young witch helping them unfortunately turned out to be an avid Lockheart fan. She spent the entire time babbling about his books and his accomplishments, much to both Harry and his professor's disgust.

"He's just done so many great things and is quite dashing, don't you think?" she gushed as she packaged _Marauding with Monsters_, _Voyages with Vampires_, _Wandering with Werewolves_ and _Year with the Yeti_, "but, of course, you already know all that since he's teaching up at the school! Must be wonderful to have such a great teacher. What I wouldn't give to be a student again."

It might have been funny, given her apparent immunity to Snape's most terrifying glare, had she not noticed the scar on Harry's forehead. Halfway through wrapping _Year with the Yeti_ she looked up at Harry and let out a squeal that made Harry jump in surprise and several customers turned to look round at them.

"Oh! Oh! You're Harry Potter!" she cried, pointing excitingly. "My goodness! Oh, it's such a pleasure to meet you!" She clapped her hands like a school girl, dropping her wand and the books in the process.

Harry blushed madly. Most of the customers in the store were staring at him now, several moving to get a better look. He wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground and escape from their pointing and whispering. Harry hated it when they stared, hated it when people made a big deal out of his scar. He never knew how he was supposed to react. How do you respond to people who consider you famous for an event you don't remember and that stole your family?

Moving closer to Snape in an attempt to escape from their prying eyes, Harry looked up into his professor's face. Snape looked thunderous, not surprising given that he considered Harry an attention seeking celebrity. Harry was about to move away again when a hand caught his shoulder, pulling him to stand between Snape and the clerk's desk, shielding him from most of the stares.

"You incompetent fool," Snape hissed at the girl, "cease you incessant babbling. Is it really so difficult for you to allow customers to make their purchases in peace?!"

The girl stopped short, clearly dumbfounded by Snape's unforgiving tongue and hostile manner. Not waiting for a response, Snape flicked his wand to finish packaging and shrinking the books before he stormed out of the store. It wasn't until they had reached the eye healer's that Harry realized Snape still had a hand on his shoulder. He felt a strange sense of loss when the Potions Master let go. For a moment, he'd let himself pretend that it was the hand of someone who cared about him, who would protect him.

"Are you all right, Harry?"

Harry blinked. Those hands were back on his shoulders, and Snape was crouching down so they were at eye level.

_He called me_ Harry.

Warmth that made the butterbeers pale in comparison blossomed in his stomach.

"I'm fine, sir." For once, it wasn't a lie.

* * *

Authors note,

Phew, writing this, than typing it out took longer than I expected. Unfortunately for you guys I like to handwrite and then type (after much grumbling). Sorry this chapter took longer than expected, I thought since it was summer I'd have more time, and I do for the most part, but between work, scholarships and the actually book I'm hoping to finish by midsummer, and the enormous pull of reading the fanfic instead of writing (seriously I go, "I'll just read for an hour", which turns into two, which turns into . . . you get the idea). Anyway enough of my lame excuses I just want to clarify some things in case anyone has questions

First, I tried to us as many of the actual shops that are supposed to be in Hogesmeade as possible, if it has a cool name such as Gladrags, Scrivenshaft's Quill shop, Potage's Cauldron shop, Tomes and Scrolls then I didn't come up with it and of course have no rights to it.

Second, I know it's a cliche to have Harry richer than in the book and to describe the vault he has access to as allowance, however, I also think it's a good point. Who gives an eleven-year-old complete access to a fortune? An eleven year old wouldn't know what to do with it, how to manage it, or how to make good financial decisions. That being said, it makes sense to me that Harry would only have access to a small vault until he came of age.

Please feel free to ask me any other questions in reviews, and I'll try to answer them in the next authors note (don't know when that will be, sadly). I hope you've enjoyed the chapter and thanks so much for the support.

until next time,

Zx14ninja


	8. Chapter 8

Beta'd by Emerald Ashes

* * *

Severus wasn't sure what compelled him to respond so strongly and uncharacteristically to Har . . . Potter's distress. Maybe it was his annoyance with the idiotic clerk in the book store or his dislike of public scrutiny. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the embarrassed, trapped expression on the child's face. Potter certainly hadn't reveled in the attention his fame brought him; in fact he'd almost appeared to loathe it.

Compared with James Potter's reaction to fame and glory, Harry Potter was his father's polar opposite. James Potter always basked in the attention and glory his position as Chaser brought him. Potter, on the other hand, hid behind his least favorite teacher, all the while flattening his bangs over his scar. Severus supposed that he really shouldn't be so surprised, given what he'd learned, but old habits and assumptions die hard.

He glanced down at the subdued child now trailing along beside him. Potter remained quiet for the rest of the trip, only responding to Healer Davis's polite inquires about their shopping with a slight smile and a murmured "good." Afterwards, the child's eyelids began to droop as they made the trek back up to the castle.

"We'll see Madam Pomfrey immediately upon arriving at the castle; then you may attended supper. I'll have your purchases sent up to your dormitory," Severus informed him.

Potter sighed, probably hoping Severus had forgotten about their conversation at lunch. Severus felt a twinge of sympathy for the boy. Still, he would not budge on the matter of a potentially life threatening problem. They traveled up the hill in silence. Severus was careful to keep a steady, easy pace, with a sharp eye on Harry, should he falter.

When they arrived at the castle and the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey was seeing to a foolish Ravenclaw who appeared to have switched his hands during Charms. Inwardly, Severus cursed. He'd hoped the Hospital Wing would be devoid of patients. Nothing travels quite like the Hogwarts grapevine, and, within minutes of the student's release, everyone would be aware that Severus Snape – the greasy dungeon bat – was escorting Harry Potter to the Hospital Wing without a hint of hostility. He'd hoped to avoid such annoyances.

"There, dear, I think that about puts you right," said the Matron as she waved her wand, undoing the student's error. The Ravenclaw, whom Severus now recognized a particularly annoying, know-it-all fourth year, wiggled his fingers before leaving the Hospital Wing. He stared at the two of them with wide eyes as he passed. Severus made sure to fix him with his most withering glare, and the student cringed.

"Mr. Potter, I'd hoped I wouldn't see you again so soon," commented Madam Pomfrey as she approached.

"Me too," Potter murmured. She smiled encouragingly at him.

"Ah, well, hop up onto the bed and we'll see what we can do."

Reluctantly, but without fuss, the child climbed up onto the thin mattress. Severus moved to stand next to the mediwitch.

"Now, what seems to the problem?" she asked once Harry was settled.

"My stomach."

They waited for him to continue but Potter was not so inclined. Sighing, Severus turned to Madam Pomfrey.

"He told me he'd been having difficulty consuming regular portions and is occasionally unable to keep most of it down."

Pomfrey frowned. "Can't say I'm surprised, between the malnutrition and stress . . . should have seen this coming," she muttered.

Turning back to Potter, she asked, "How often are you vomiting, Mr. Potter?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Usually two or three times a week. Most of the time, it's right after breakfast."

"I see, and does your stomach hurt, at all?"

"Sometimes, but not very often. Most of the time, it just feels queasy."

Pomfrey nodded. "It's probably a combination of stress and malnutrition. However, there is a chance of the problem becoming an ulcer if left unchecked."

Severus blanched while Harry just looked confused.

"A what?" he asked.

"An ulcer, dear, something you don't want to develop. Now, I'm going to prescribe some stomach soothers and an appetite stimulator. Professor Snape?"

"I have a potion that suites both needs. I will instruct the house elves to add it to his mealtime drink," Severus assured her.

"Wait!" Potter exclaimed. "Can't you just give me the potion to take at meals?"

Severus shook his head. He understood the child's reluctance to allow tampering with his food and – if he were older – Severus might have agreed, but twelve-year-olds were rarely reliable when it came to taking medication correctly.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. It's school policy that anyone under the age of seventeen must have their medication administered by an adult or sent up, at the correct time, by the house elves," lectured Madam Pomfrey.

Harry turned his pleading green eyes – more vivid than ever without the hindrance of the large, ugly glasses – on Severus. Severus's stomach clenched as a thought occurred to him. What if this wasn't the first time Potter's meals had been tampered with? It wouldn't surprise him, given how deplorable Harry's relatives were.

"I give you my word, Mr. Potter. Nothing more than the prescribe potion will be added to your drink."

They stared at each other, Potter clearly weighting if he should trust the Potions Master or not. Finally, he nodded in acceptance.

"Good, now," – Severus turned to the matron's potions cabinet, selecting a sliver liquid– "here is the potion that will be added to your morning, afternoon, and evening meal. Since it is nearly supper now, you will take the potion here before you are free to attend supper."

Severus nearly smirked at the disgusted look on Harry's face when he hesitantly accepted the vial. Unlike most potions, stomach soothers were quite pleasant; otherwise, a nauseous patient would be unable to stomach them. He found it amusing to watch as Potter's face, scrunched in expectation of a foul taste, turned to surprise when the potion met his lips.

"Better than you expected, Mr. Potter?" Severus didn't quite mock, but teased.

"Yes, sir," answered the child, obviously baffled by Severus's behavior. He wasn't the only one; Severus himself was shocked.

"Very well, I believe supper began several minutes ago. Try to avoid your usually mischief on your way there."

Potter cracked a small grin. "I'll try, sir"

He hopped off the bed but hadn't taken more than five steps towards the door when he stopped. Spinning on his heels, Potter turned back to face his teacher.

"Thank you, sir," Harry blurted out. Then, without waiting for a response, he pelted for the door and disappeared down the hall.

"Well," said Madam Pomfrey, "you've certainly made quite the second impression in order to make up for your first."

Severus scowled at her.

"Don't be ridiculous," he growled, but smiled inwardly at the thought.

* * *

By the time Harry reached the Great Hall, he was ravenous. For the first time in ages, he drooled at the smell of food wafting down the hall. He'd forgotten what it felt like to not feel sick at just the Great Hall's aroma Intent on satisfying his stomach, he made his way into the inside ignoring the usually sneers and catcalls from the Slytherins.

"Where've you been? Ya can't have been shopping all day?" asked Ron when Harry slid into the space between him and Hermione.

"I guess I needed more stuff than I thought." Harry shrugged, piling food onto his plate.

"Well, I'm glad you got all your supplies, Harry. Not that we minded sharing," said Hermione.

Harry nodded, unable to speak around a mouthful of food.

"Whoa, mate, slow down!" laughed Ron as Harry shoveled in another spoonful of mashed potatoes and carrots. He stopped mid chew, realizing his friends were staring at him.

"Are you feeling all right, Harry?" asked Hermione. "I've never seen you eat so much."

Harry looked down as his plate. While he still had less food than Ron, he definitely had more than normal.

"I erm . . ." he began, breaking off when he realized several other Gryffindors were watching the three of them curiously.

"Oi! Mind your own business!" barked Ron at Collin Creevy, the closest listener. The first year squeaked and hurried off.

"Ron," scolded Hermione.

"What? It's hard to eat with him staring at us, all the time," justified the red-head. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to Harry.

"Anyway, Harry, Ron and I wanted to ask you some things, when we got back to the common room."

The piece of steak he'd just put in his mouth turned to ash, and, suddenly, Harry wasn't feeling so hungry.

"O-okay, let's go now, while everyone's still at dinner," Harry bit out, wanting to get the questions over with as soon as possible.

The three of them headed up from the table. Harry could feel eyes on him from the front of the Hall. He glanced over. Sometime during his conversation with Ron and Hermione, Snape had joined the staff table. Harry met Snape's eyes, and the dour Professor raised an eyebrow.

Harry shrugged. He didn't know a way to communicate that everything was probably fine; it would have to wait for when Harry had detention. With a jolt, Harry realized that there wouldn't be any more detentions. His last one had been Friday. Oddly enough, his stomach clenched. Somewhere between the infamous Hospital Wing visit that had started this mess, the tutoring, and the Hogsmeade shopping trip, Harry had come to trust Snape, even like him.

Now that the professor was no longer hostile, Harry found that – despite his gruff manor and sarcastic tongue – Snape wasn't all that bad. In fact, he'd done more to help Harry than McGonagall had all last year . . . or this year.

"Harry? You coming?"

Turning away from his thoughts, Harry nodded and followed his friends out of the Great Hall. They didn't speak as they made their way through the corridors. Harry tried to swallow the panic rising in his chest. What was he going to say to them? Telling his two best friends about the Dursleys wasn't even a consideration; not that there was anything to tell.

"Password."

"Wattlebird,*" said Hermione before Harry even realized they'd arrived at the portrait hole. Wishing he were anywhere else, Harry reluctantly clambered through after his friends. Few Gryffindors were back from dinner, and most were studying. The rest watched Fred and George demonstrate a new spell which seemed to have no purpose other than to emit a loud 'Bang! For once, even Hermione was glad for the twin's loud antics, which prevented them from being overheard as they settled into a secluded corner.

"Harry, you didn't go to Hogesmeade with Professor McGonagall. " said Hermione once they were comfortable. It was more of a statement than a question, but Harry answered anyways.

" . . . No, how'd you find out?"

Ron smiled sympathetically. "Saw her right after you left, givin' a couple of third years who tried to bewitch a banister detention, and we know you didn't go with Hagrid 'cause we visited him around noon."

Harry shifted uncomfortably, trying to think of a way to stall for time.

"Did Professor Dumbledore take you, Harry?" asked Hermione.

For a moment, Harry considered telling them that, yes, Dumbledore was the one who had taken him, but then he remembered Ron's words, telling him that he could tell them anything. Well, there was no time like the present.

"No, no, it was Snape," he admitted.

"_What?!_" burst out Ron, positively horrified at the thought. "Snape? Snape took you? I'm so sorry, mate, it must have been awful!"

Hermione nodded, knowing just how much Snape had tormented him. Harry stared at their aghast faces and felt his heart rise a bit.

"It actually wasn't all that bad. I mean, he took me to get new glasses and everything." Harry smiled weakly at his friends' shocked faces.

"They are nice glasses, mate, but Snape? He's hated you from day one!" exclaimed Ron.

"I know," Harry agreed, "but lately, he's been, I dunno, nice. I mean, in my detentions, he's been helping me catch up on my homework and teaching me how to use a quill and stuff."

"Oh, Harry!" squealed Hermione, getting over her shock first. "That's wonderful!"

Ron still looked skeptical. "You sure about this, Harry?"

Harry paused for a moment. Was he sure about any of this?

"No, not really, but, for now, I'm just gonna take it at face value, at least until he changes back."

"Well, I, for one, think it's proof that people can change," piped in Hermione.

"Hermione!" groaned Ron. "Just because you believe all teachers are saints . . ."

"That's not what I'm saying, Ronald!"

Harry smiled, watching them bicker. He leaned against one of the pillows they'd commandeered. It had been a long day, and the flicking fire was soothing. All of his worries about Snape and the Dursleys could wait until morning, he decided as he drifted in to the first peaceful sleep he'd had in months.

* * *

"Enter, Mr. Potter," called Severus several days after the shopping trip. Since then, Harry had come to visit him for help with school work to escape from the school and Lockhart's constant badgering. Severus found he really didn't mind. Despite the child's mediocre, but rising, grades, he was surprisingly intelligent. More important were the occasional slips.

"My relatives and I, we don't really get on, but it's not like it's a crime to hate me."

"I never really did well in school; it's hard to concentrate when you're always looking over your shoulder, waiting for Dudley and his gang to beat you up."

"They never _punish_ Dudley."

The tidbits were small and, for the most part, innocent, but added together to paint a much grimmer picture.

The door to his office slid open to reveal a very wet and muddy Harry Potter, still in his Quidditch robes. Severus quirked an eyebrow at the sight of him.

"Mr. Wood is aware that, if all his players are in the Hospital Wing because they have contracted pneumonia, they can hardly win the Quiddich cup," Severus commented as, with a flick of his wand, he dried the child off.

"Thanks, sir, and Wood's a fanatic. He'd have us practice in a monsoon if he thought it'd help us win the cup," Harry told him cheerfully.

Severus frowned. He wouldn't allow Flint to take the team out to practice too often in stormy weather because he firmly believed school and the welfare of those on the team came first. He argued vehemently against games played in thunder and lightning storms. The chances of a child being in injured in a game were too high already, but add lightning to the mix, and a serious – or fatal – injury was bound to happen.

Perhaps he should have another discussion with the heads of house about safety measures, though he doubted it would have any impact.

"What brings you here today, Mr. Potter, in such a state?" he asked after making a mental note.

Harry smiled sheepishly. "I wanted to ask you something. What's a squib?"

Well, that certainly wasn't what Severus had expected. He gestured for the boy to sit down in the chair across from him.

"A squib, Mr. Potter, is a person who was born to magical parents but does not possess any magic themselves," he explained.

Harry cocked his head. "So it's like opposite of a Muggleborn, right?"

"Yes, that is an apt analogy. Why do you ask?" questioned Severus, curiously. He became even more curious when Harry suddenly looked evasive.

"Just wondering, that's all."

Oh, he was definitely avoiding the truth.

"Hmm . . . this wouldn't have anything to do with Mr. Filch, would it?"

Filch was the only squib in the school, and Severus doubted Harry came across the term in any second year books. The guilty expression on Harry's face confirmed his theory. Severus had quickly discovered that the child was an open book, especially to an observant spy like himself.

"Out with it, Mr. Potter. You've already come this far."

Appearing utterly miserable, Harry admitted that the caretaker had dragged him into his office after catching him dripping all over the floor, and the Gryffindor ghost's subsequent rescue.

"It was just lying on the desk and Filch left so I . . ."

"Thought you would poke your nose into other people business," Severus finished. The Gryffindor flinched. Truthfully, Severus wasn't really angry with the child. Growing up in an abusive household meant you had to be aware of what went on, and, if that meant reading private messages, then so be it. Severus had done the same when he was a child.

"I assume Mr. Filch was not pleased when he discovered you'd read the letter?"

Harry nodded. "He was really upset, tossed me out of his office without even assigning a detention."

"Even so, all of this could have been avoided if you had simply cleaned off in the locker showers," Severus reprimanded.

". . . yeah"

Alarms went off in Severus's head. The uncomfortable, disturbed look on Harry's face did not bode well.

"Mr. Potter . . . Harry, if any of your teammates have approached you inappropriately . . ."

"No!" Harry burst out, wide-eyed. "It's not them!"

"But someone is making you feel uncomfortable._ Who?_" Severus wouldn't let Harry get out of this one He had a sick feeling that he knew _exactly_ who was making the twelve-year-old feel unsafe, but he wanted confirmation.

"I . . . well . . . it was Lockhart!" Harry admitted. "He was waiting in the changing room, so I left before he saw me. I just . . . don't like the way he looks at me."

Neither did Severus. He'd seen the way Lockhart stared at Harry at mealtimes, like he was a commodity, something to acquire. The vile man even followed Harry around the castle on the pretense of giving him advice.

The other teachers might think it harmless and annoying – all of them knew the DADA teacher was a fraud – but Severus always saw the darker, less optimistic side of life.

"You did well to avoid Professor," – Severus sneered in disgust – "Lockhart. In the future, I bid you to do the same. However, that does not excuse your snooping through a staff member's personal correspondence."

"I was just curious!" Harry cried and then clapped a hand over his mouth. Severus leaned back in his chair; he felt oddly satisfied at the child's complaint. Up until now, Harry was careful not to argue for fear of Severus going back to hate him.

"That is not an excuse, as you very well know. You must control your curiosity. Otherwise, it will get you into more trouble than you bargained for," he chastised.

"Sorry," Harry whispered.

"You are forgiven. However, you will write "I will respect other's business" one hundred times," Severus told him, drawing out parchment, ink and a quill from his desk.

Harry accepted the punishment without complaint, taking the offered items to begin writing.

"Sir? Can I ask you one more thing?" Harry asked, quill poised atop the parchment.

"I believe you just did, but yes, you may."

"What goes on at a deathday party?"

Severus resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to sigh.

"Nothing the living would be interest in. Dare I ask why?"

"Nearly-headless-Nick asked me to come to his on Halloween, you know, to repay him for distracting Filch."

Merlin save him from chivalrous Gryffindors.

"Believe me, Mr. Potter, the last place you will want to be on Halloween is a deathday party and, since you can ill afford to miss meals, I am afraid you will have to decline."

"Thank you, sir."

Severus nodded in amusement, truly not minding that Harry was using him as a means to avoid an, undoubtedly, hastily made promise.

"Now, I suggest that you start on those lines, before I am forced to assign more."

Quickly, Harry began writing, and silence, other than the soft scratching of his quill, fell between them. Pleased with the progress he'd made in gaining Harry's trust. Severus turned back to the article he'd been reading before Harry entered. Tomorrow, Severus would make a visit to Professor Lockhart and give him a _friendly_ reminder of what happened to people that crossed Severus Snape. If the idiot persisted, well, Severus never made empty threats, and he was quite skilled at avoiding detection.

If this was the worst trouble the boy found all year, the Potions Master would breathe easy. Of course, with Harry Potter, it's always best to plan for the worst.

* * *

On the day of Halloween, Harry had never been so glad that Snape had put his foot down on attending the deathday party. With the potion's help Harry had managed to put on some weight, enough to prevent Madam Pomfrey from banning him from Quidditch. Although his portions remained small, he managed a little more with each meal.

Ron was even more excited about the Halloween feast, rambling on about the sweets and which he would try first.

"Really, Ronald, how you don't have a mouth full of cavities, I will never understand," commented Hermione whenever she became tired of the redhead's daydreaming.

"What do you think you'll have first, Harry?" Ron asked, ignoring her.

Harry shrugged; honestly, he doubted he'd eat many sweets. His stomach still couldn't handle the rich, fatty desserts Hogwarts offered. Despite his lack of enthusiasm, Harry still oohed and aahed with the rest of the school when they entered the Great Hall to find it bedecked with giant, floating jack-o-lanterns, live bats and moving skeletons in place of the usual suits of armor.

The feast itself consisted of delicious pork chops, mutton and an assortment of other food which the students piled high on their plates. Most were pleasantly full by the time the plates vanished, but, as soon as the treats appeared. Ogling the cauldron cakes, treacle tart, and bowls of candy, many found a bit more room in their already bulging waist line.

Harry decided to pace himself. As tempting as the sweets were, they rarely tasted as good coming up the second time. Besides, he'd seen all too clearly what came of eating excessively, and Harry refused to even remotely resemble his Uncle and cousin.

"I think I'm gonna head back to the Common Room," he told Ron and Hermione after finishing his small slice of treacle tart. Watching Ron or any of his other dorm mates eat made him feel ill.

"You . . .wann usta come . . . with you?" asked Ron between mouthfuls.

Harry shook his head. "No, stay and enjoy the feast."

"Are you sure Harry?" said Hermione.

"Yeah, I might try to start on some of that homework, or maybe just go bed. I'll meet you back in the common room," he assured her as he stood.

Harry had left the Great Hall, heading toward the dungeons and a short cut to Gryffindor tower when he heard it, the same disembodied voice he'd heard on his way to detention weeks ago.

_"Rrrrrip, tearrrrr . . ."_

Harry's heart sped up; it was heading back along the corridor, back towards the Great Hall and the feast.

_"Blood, I sssssmell blood* . . . sssssso hungry." _

Spinning around, he charged back up the passageway. Whatever it was, it sounded like it was going to kill someone. He flew up the stairs and followed the voice to the first floor corridor, where the voice vanished. Harry stood there, feet soaking . . . wait his feet were wet?

Harry looked down; the corridor was flooded with water from a girls' bathroom. Slowly, he made his way along it, careful not to slip in the water covering the floor. When he reached the end, Harry looked up, expecting to see stone wall. Instead, he stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet in horror.

**The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware.***

It was written across the wall in what looked horribly like blood. If this was a prank, Harry didn't think it was very funny. Then, he saw the cat hanging by its tail from one of the torch brackets. It was Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat.

* * *

Author's note,

Ya know, most of the time my chapters get shorter instead of longer as the story progresses. : ). I just want to note that I know nothing about how an abuse child reacts or anything, I'm just making this up as I go along so if anything is inaccurate please keep in mind I'm not a psychologist. Also, I feel that Lockhart is really creepy, he Oblivates people on a whim and thinks himself the prettiest thing to ever grace the earth; I don't think it's a far stretch to portray him as a potential child molester. I'm not sure how far that part of my plot will go but I do promise this fic will remain K+ to T rated.

*anything with an * is either a direct quote or close enough from _Harry_ _Potter and the Chamber of Secrets._

Thanks for your support and reviews. I currently have over 400 reviews, more than I ever imaged any story I'd wrote would receive and I cannot begin to tell you how much that mean to me.

Until next chapter,

Zx14ninja

ps, I know I mentioned this in an early chapter, but if anyone wants to do some fan art or already has for this story let me know via review I'd love to have a cover


	9. Chapter 9

Beta'd by Emerald Ashes

* * *

Harry stood frozen, gaping at the grisly sight. _"The Chamber of Secrets? Enemies of the Heir?" _Slowly he backed away. He needed to get out of here, find a teacher, find _Snape_; Snape would know what to do.

The sound of footsteps rang out. The feast must be over. Harry didn't even have time to duck into an empty classroom when the friendly, excited chatter died as the first group of students saw the message and the cat. For a moment there was silence, Harry felt increasing nervous, and the other students stared at him and the cat hanging on the wall. He could pick out Ron and Harmonies' horrified faces. Then a familiar drawl split the air,

"Enemies of the Heir? You'll be next Mudbloods."*

Pandemonium broke out immediately. There were shouts and screams. Harry was forced to back against the wall to keep himself from being trampled by the sudden wave of panicked students.

"QUIET DOWN! What's all this fuss!? 'll 'ave you _all_ in detention!"

Argus Filch, the caretaker, brandished his broom and forced his way through the crowd of students. Then, he saw Harry.

"Potter!" he spat. "Wha' are you doing—Mrs. Norris!?" the caretaker's eyes bulged as he spotted his beloved cat hanging stiffly from the torch bracket.

"My cat! My cat!" he cried, and a hush fell over the crowd. "What's happened to my cat?! What's 'appened to Mrs. Norris?!"

Filch limped forward, arms outstretched, toward the still cat. Once more, his eyes fell on Harry.

"YOU!" he snarled, lurching forward and taking Harry's shoulders in a bruising grip. Filch was surprisingly strong, managing to slam Harry's back into the wall, knocking the breath out of him.

"You murdered my cat! You killed her! Now I'm going. To. Murder. YOU!" Filch screamed inches from Harry's face, spit flying.

"N-no, I-I didn't," the terrified Gryffindor choked out, vainly trying to escape from the caretaker's painful grip.

"Unhand him, man! Have you taken leave of your senses?!" hissed a dark voice. Snape, in all his towering glory, appeared at Filch's side. Strong hands broke the grip on Harry's neck and shoved Filch back.

Harry took deep, gulping breaths, more than shaken by the encounter. The incident reminded him of Uncle Vernon's fits of rage, which always culminated in something unpleasant for Harry. He was grateful that Snape remained in front of him, not only protecting him from the deranged caretaker but also allowing for Harry to recover.

"He killed my cat! He killed her!" Filch was still screaming and gesturing wildly at Harry.

"Argus! What are you . . . oh dear," boomed another voice. Dumbledore, followed closely by the other teachers, had arrived. The students parted to allow them through. The headmaster approached the cat, peering at her keenly.

"Prefects, please escort the students to their dormitories."

For a moment, no one moved, and then the prefects scrambled into action, rounding up the students.

"Gryffindors over here! Nothing to see, come along! Where's Ginny? Ah, there you are," called Percy Weasley, tucking his very wide-eyed sister under his arm.

Harry took a trembling, unsteady step towards them, but Snape caught his arm.

"Not you, Harry. I'm afraid I'll need to ask you what happened," said Dumbledore apologetically.

Harry nodded, even as he gazed longingly after the group of Gyffindors now trailing behind Ron's brother. Ron and Hermione were the last to leave, lingering with worried faces until McGonagall shooed them out.

"Perhaps we should move to a more private venue," the headmaster suggested, gently levitating the body of Mrs. Norris.

"My office, Dumbledore, it's just right over there!" said Lockhart.

Still shaking, Harry followed, grateful for the steadying hand Snape laid on his shoulders. Filch still looked murderous, and Harry made sure to stay as far away as possible.

"She's not dead, Argus," said Dumbledore once they'd gathered around Lockhart's desk, where the stiff cat now lay. Around them, the many pictures of Lockhart shifted in their portraits to get a better look.

"Not dead!? What do you mean she's not dead? Why's she all stiff and not moving!?" snarled the caretaker.

"She has been petrified, but how, I do not . . ." answered Dumbledore as calmly as if they'd been talking about the weather.

"Ah yes!" cut in Lockhart. "Just as I thought!"

The self-absorbed professor had chosen to stand next to Harry and now tried to put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I'm sure young Harry here didn't mean anything by it. Just a harmless joke. Perhaps a few detentions with me—"

"It is _highly_ unlikely that Mr. Potter is responsible for either the message or the cat seeing as how this would require incredible dark and advanced magic!" sneered Snape, shoving Lockhart's hand aside. Just as in the bookstore, Harry moved closer to the Potions Master.

"I know he did it!" shouted Filch. "E's was the only one down that corridor! E's the only on that knows I'm a . . . squib!"

Harry flinched and shook his head in denial.

"I'm sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for Mr. Potter's leaving the feast early" defended McGonagall.

Dumbledore nodded, turning to Harry with softly twinkling eyes.

"Harry, can you tell us what happened? Why you left the feast?"

Harry swallowed, mouth dry, "I . . . was full and didn't feel like watching Ron eat so I left. I was heading for Gryffindor Tower when I came across Mrs. Norris."

He felt guilty at omitting the part about the voice, but something told him that admitting to hearing bodiless voices wouldn't go over well. He didn't want to give Filch any more reason to strangle him. Even now the caretaker's face twisted in disbelief.

"A likely story!" he spat. "What student doesn't remain to stuff themselves full of sweets? Disgusting, the lot of you. No respect!"

"Argus! That is _enough. _If you continue in such a manner, I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave the room," scolded the headmaster. Immediately, Filch fell quiet.

"Thank you, now, we will be able to cure her, Argus. I believe Professor Sprout currently has a healthy batch of Mandrakes," continued Dumbledore. He looked over at the Herbology teacher, and she nodded.

"Right you are, Headmaster. They'll be mature in a few months' time."

"Jolly good, jolly _good_! Once they are ready I'll whip up the necessary potion to cure her. You'll have your Mrs. Norris back in no time," Lockhart beamed.

"Excuse me, but I believe I am the Potions Master at this school," growled Snape. Harry tried not to laugh hysterically at the scornful expression on his teacher's face. Harry realized a giggle had escaped when the hand on his shoulder gave a slight squeeze. He leaned into the touch, tired from the night's events.

"Headmaster, I believe it would be wise to continue this without Mr. Potter's presence. He's hardly required and should be escorted to his dormitories," said Snape as Harry felt his eyelids droop.

"Ah, yes, forgive me, Harry. Please, Severus, if you would?"

Once again, Lockhart interjected, "I'll take him, Dumbledore, He'll be more than safe with me!"

"Yes, so long as nothing more menacing than a _Cornish Pixie _appears, he'll be perfectly safe with you," Snape drawled.

Lockhart flushed and didn't speak again.

"Come, Mr. Potter, back to your dormitory, before you find even _more _trouble."

Harry found himself steered out of the office before he quite knew what was happening.

"Sir," he murmured, "Sir, it really wasn't . . ."

"I am well aware that you didn't have anything to do with the cat, Mr. Potter. However, I also don't believe you told the entire truth," said Snape.

Harry stumbled but felt comforted when Snape quickly steadied him. Nerves quickly replaced the feeling. How did Snape always seem to know when he was lying, or at least not telling the whole truth?

Snape smirked. "You fidget even more than usual when telling a falsehood, Mr. Potter."

Harry flushed. If he told Snape he was hearing voices, Snape would think he was crazy, which was the last thing Harry wanted. He'd as Snape was starting to like him, he had to go and muck it up.

"It's nothing, sir," he answered finally, trying hard to keep from fidgeting. His refusal to meet the Potions Master's eyes gave him away. Harry didn't even notice when the long fingers gently turned his head. Snape's black eyes bore into his.

"_Anything _you have not mentioned could be of vital importance. I insist you tell me."

Trapped, Harry squirmed only to freeze when Snape's fingers tightened on his chin.

"I heard a voice okay!"

"A voice? What voice? A student's?"

Harry shook his head. "Not it was hoarse, and I don't think anyone else can hear it. Ron was with me one of the times but he said he didn't hear anything!"

Slowly, Snape released his chin.

"What does this voice say?"

"Awful things. It was talking about killing someone, so I followed it—" Harry broke off, Snape now looked thunderous.

"You followed? You idiotic child!"

"I didn't know what else to do," Harry said, but Snape just seemed angrier.

"You get a teacher! You do not follow potentially murderous voices!"

"They'd think I was lying!" Harry cried out and Snape stopped.

"Last year we went to McGonagall about the stone, and she didn't believe us! Now, I'm hearing voices, and people will think I'm crazy and lock me up in a loony bin just like my uncle said they would!" Harry babbled, breaths coming in short quick gasps.

From a great distance, he thought he heard his teacher curse. A vial was pressed to his lips in between his short breaths. As the liquid trickled down his throat, calm came over him.

Harry's vision cleared, and he realized Snape was leaning over him, encouraging him to breath. A few deep breaths filled his lungs, pushing back the lightheadedness.

"Very good, Harry. Now, let me assure you; you will not be sent to a "loony bin," nor do I believe you are not in possession of all your wits. Given the correlation between this voice and the attack, it would suggest that it is something only certain people can hear,"

Harry swallowed. "S-so you don't think I'm losing my mind?"

"No, Harry. I want you to promise me that you will find the nearest teacher or myself the next time you hear this voice."

Harry hesitated, unsure if he could make such a promise.

"This is nonnegotiable. I will find you a keeper if you don't agree," Snape threatened.

"Okay, I promise I'll come to you if I hear it again, all right?"

Snape sighed. "Close enough, I suppose."

He pulled Harry to his feet. The two headed off, but it was several floors before Harry spoke again.

"Sir, what is the Chamber of Secrets? Who's the Heir?"

"It's an old legend pertaining to my house. Some say that, when Salazar Slytherin split from the school, he left behind a chamber that only his true heir could open. It is speculated that a monster resides there," Snape explained. "As for the Heir, if I knew that we wouldn't be having his conversation."

Shuddering, Harry said, "So the Chamber does exist, then?"

A strangely tired look came over his teacher's face. It unnerved Harry to see him so worn.

"I'm afraid I do not know. There are many secrets in this castle. Perhaps the Chamber exists; perhaps it does not."

They reached the portrait hole, and, dutifully, Harry gave the password.

"Thank you, sir, and goodnight."

Severus nodded. Harry climbed through, but, before he could shut the portrait hole, Snape called him back.

"Oh, and Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked up.

"Do not stay up talking to your friends. There will be time for that in the morning, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Quietly he drew the portrait shut, only to stare at it blankly. He wondered how many people would believe he hadn't attacked Mrs. Norris. So far, Snape was the only person besides Ron and Hermione that Harry felt he could trust.

"Harry!"

He turned in time to catch Hermione as she threw her arms around his neck.

"Oh, Harry! We were so worried!"

"What happened, mate?"

Closing his eyes, Harry leaned against his best friends.

"Not now, I'll explain in the morning." Snape was right and he was too exhausted to think straight. Besides, they had Potions in the morning.

* * *

"Severus? You wished to speak with me?"

Severus turned from the flickering fire in his dungeon room. He wished that he had dared a glass of firewhisky, but he had class tomorrow. _Harry's _class. Strange how the boy was now Harry in his mind.

"Yes, Albus," he replied, settling in an armchair.

"I presume this has to do with Harry?"

"Who else would I ask to speak with you about but the Gryffindor golden-boy?" There was no malice in his voice and the headmaster didn't scold him. Severus rested his elbows on his knees and his chin on his steepled fingers.

"Mr. Potter heard something – a voice. Apparently it's not the first time, either"

Dumbledore sat heavily in a chair across from him, withered hand on his temple.

"I see. Do you know why Harry neglected to mention this?"

"Yes," Severus snarled. "He was afraid we would think him crazy, or send him to the mad house like his deplorable uncle has threatened!"

Dumbledore straightened sharply. "The mad house? Harry told you his uncle has threatened to have him sent to a mad house?"

Severus leveled him with a penetrating stare. They held each other's gaze until Dumbledore looked away, covering his face with his hands.

"Madam Pomfrey has a list of injures that Harry acquired over the summer. It is extensive and points to a potentially life threatening situation if he is not removed from the home. I can give you a pensieve statement of what the child himself has told me and the statements of Healer Davis," Severus informed him quietly. Before his eyes, the usually strong headmaster seemed to wilt.

"I see," Dumbledore murmured, "and when did you make this discovery, Severus?"

Severus hesitated, considering his options.

Finally, he admitted, "Over a month ago, Mr. Potter collapsed within his first detention. I became aware that he did not go the Hospital Wing as I ordered several days later and escorted him myself."

The headmaster stood at his words and paced, hands clasped behind his back.

"And why did you not inform me of your discovery immediately?" asked the older man as he stopped in front of the crackling fire.

"I lacked any definitive proof . . ."

Dumbledore whirled to face him. "Proof? Severus, my dear boy, what have I done to make you believe so ill of me? Had you brought Madam Promfreys report, or even you observations. I would have trusted you." cried the elder, face stricken.

Severus flinched, he couldn't deny that the thought hadn't crossed him mind.

"I know you. Severus, you would not have hidden something as serious as this from me, no matter what your personal feelings about Harry were," continued Dumbledore when Severus didn't respond.

"Of course not!" Severus snapped, incensed by the mere thought. "I simply intended to gather all the facts before I approached you, but, given the current situation and Harry's involvement . . ."

"Ah," cut in the headmaster, blues eyes once again sparkling. "I believe I understand now."

"Understand? Pray tell, what exactly do you understand?" Severus demanded. He glared at his mentor, hating the compassionate, yet knowing smile. Severus was not a child and an old coot would not patronize him!

Dumbledore returned to his seat.

"You did not tell me, Severus, not because you did not trust me, but because you had discovered that the Harry Potter you thought you knew did not exist."

Severus clenched his hands. "Preposterous." he responded coolly.

"Severus, if there is one thing you cannot stand, it is to be proven wrong," – Dumbledore smiled – "I'm sure you have managed to convince yourself that the only reason you decided to investigate is because Minerva and I are old fashioned, but the truth is you wanted to, as they say, crack the puzzle that is Harry Potter."

Now Severus stood, agitated. He had considered that his response to Harry Potter's abuse was not logical. He paced, clenching his jaw, while the Headmaster watched.

"That might have been your motivation, either consciously or not, at first, but now . . ."

Severus looked over when Dumbledore stopped, and their eyes met again.

"I saw how you responded to his distress, how you protected him not only from Argus but from Gilderoy as well."

Breaking eye contact, Severus resumed his furious pacing with slightly more vigor.

"Once more," continued Dumbledore despite Severus's agitation, "I saw how Harry responded in kind, with more trust than he has ever bestowed on me."

Severus stopped, back stiff and reeling from shock. Dumbledore rose and came to stand next to him.

"I give you my word that Harry shall not return to the Dursleys. In the mean time, I leave him in

your capable hands."

"Mine?" Severus spluttered, voice returning. "Have you finally gone senile?"

Patting Severus on the shoulder, Dumbledore continued to smile, "I can assure you I am in excellent mental health, as sharp as I ever was."

" And yet you want to leave the wellbeing of Harry Potter in my hands? Harry Potter, the boy I spent all of last year loathing, with the Death Eater who got his parents killed?!

"Ah, Severus, you underestimate the capacity of others to forgive and your own worthiness of that forgiveness. I urge you to continue as you have with Harry," said Dumbledore.

"So you are refusing to foster your own relationship with the boy?"

"If that is what it takes to encourage yours, then, yes, I am."

Severus snarled at him in disgust. The headmaster laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I shall take my leave of you, but, Severus, think on what I have told you and know there is no shame in admitting you're human. Goodnight."

Without another word, Dumbledore swept out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Severus cursed, struggling to recover from the headmaster's parting words. He hated how Dumbledore always looked deep into the part of his heart he kept under lock and key. However, he couldn't deny any of the headmaster's observations. After all, he'd taken cases like Harry's to the headmaster before with far less evidence, and Albus his best to fix the situation.

He shook his head. It was late, and he was tired. Harry Potter, and all the headaches that came with him, could wait until morning.

* * *

Authors note

First and for most I would like to mention that changes have been made to chapter 3 to include Ron when Harry first hears the voice. So go back and check out that scene in chapter 3 if you haven't already. Now on the authors note.

I hope you have all enjoy this chapter, I admit I was a bit conflicted about it at first, but I think the chapter (with the help of my Beta) turned out better than I expected. I know that some fanfics fall flat when Snape admits that he's fond of Harry, but he's only kinda of admitting to his feelings and we still have the Basilisk and Lockhart to deal with, this story is far form over.

Thank you to all who have reviewed.

Until next time

Zx14ninja


	10. Chapter 10

WARNING, PLEASE READ! THIS CHAPTER DOES CONTAIN AN ADULT BEHAVING INAPPROPRIATELY WITH A CHILD. IT IS NOT TOO GRAPIC BUT IT CAN STILL BE TRIGGERING/UNCOMFORTABLE TO READ

PLEASE TAKE NOTE OF THE MARKED SECTION WHEN READING

As always a special thank you to my Beta, Emerald Ashes

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was horrible. The story of the attack on Mrs. Norris, the message on the wall and Harry being discovered at the scene of the crime spread like wildfire through the school.

"Hey, Potter? Attack anyone today?"

"Watch out, Potter, Filch's got it out for you."

Even worse than the catcalls were those who actively avoided him with frightened faces, whispering behind his back. It was enough to nearly make him skip breakfast, but Ron and Hermione refused to let him.

"It'll die down," encouraged Ron as he guided Harry over to the Gryffindor table. "Once they catch the real culprit, everyone will know you didn't do it."

"Ron's right, Harry," added Hermione, "come and eat breakfast"

Reluctantly, Harry sat and loaded a few pieces of toast on his plate.

"So, what do you reckon the Chamber of Secrets is?" asked Ron once they were settled.

"I don't know. I remember reading something about it in _Hogwarts a History, _but, when I went to the library, they'd all been check out, and the waiting list is ridiculous!" said Hermione.

"Oh! So that's where you were this morning!" cried Ron. "But, don't you, you know, already own _Hogwarts a History_?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes, but I had to leave it behind to make room for all of Professor Lockhart's books."

Ron opened his mouth, probably to say something about Hermione's book habits, but Harry broke in.

"Snape told me about the Chamber," he muttered, grateful for the potion in his goblet, which allowed him to eat even when he'd normally be a wreck. Ron and Hermione stared at him in shock.

"No way, are you serious, mate? Snape? Snape told _you_ about the Chamber of Secrets?" gasped Ron in astonishment.

Harry nodded.

"When? What did he tell you?" asked Hermione, breathless with excitement.

"I asked him about it when he was walking me back up to the Gryffindor Tower, last night," Harry admitted, dropping his voice to prevent eavesdroppers. The other two leaned in closer, straining to hear him over the babble of the Great Hall.

"And?" asked Ron impatiently.

"Apparently, it's some hidden chamber Salazar Slytherin left behind when he left the school. I guess it can only be opened by his "true Heir," and it has some kind of monster in it," Harry told them.

Ron frowned. "Why'd he leave, and what kind of monster?"

"Salazar Slytherin was notorious for his dislike of Muggleborns. I suspect he didn't take too kindly to the other Founders' belief that all children born with magic should be educated," said Hermione distastefully.

"Yeah, I bet he didn't" – Ron scowled before he turned back to Harry – "Well, that answers that question, but not the most important one, like what monster is in the Chamber."

Harry shook his head. "Snape said he didn't know what the monster was or who the Heir was."

"I bet I know who the Heir is," said Ron.

"Who?" asked a skeptical Hermione. Ron gave the Slytherin table a significant glance, and Harry and Hermione followed his gaze.

"No," laughed Hermione, "you can't be serious, Ronald!"

"It fits though, doesn't it? You heard him after the feast, "you'll be next Mudbloods." Who else do we know that hates Muggleborns?" Ron justified.

"Yes, but really, Draco Malfoy?" Hermione shook her head.

"What do you think, Harry?" asked Ron, searching for support.

Harry bit his lip and looked back at the blond boy surrounded by his usually cronies. Snape's comment that the attack on Mrs. Norris would need powerful and advanced dark magic came floating back to him. Sure, Malfoy had the motive, but Harry wasn't sure he had the capability to control a monster like that.

"I don't know, maybe." Unease curled his stomach.

"If only we could get into the Slytherin common room. I bet Malfoy's just lapping it up to his cronies," sighed Ron as if Harry had agreed with him. Harry didn't bother to correct him.

"Even if we could, it's not like Malfoy would just tell _us,_" Harry pointed out instead. A pensive expression came over Hermione's face, like she was trying to answer a difficult homework question.

"What?" Ron asked her.

"Well," she began slowly, "what we need is something that would allow us to gain entrance into the Slytherin common room, to question Malfoy without him knowing it us."

"Yeah, and?" Ron pressed impatiently.

"Oh, Ronald, don't you pay attention in class? Snape mentioned it _weeks _ago, when we were brewing the hair color changing potion."

Harry frowned. He vividly remembered that class since he'd spent it trying to prevent Malfoy from sabotaging his potion. Needless to say, he didn't recall his teacher saying anything about a potion that would allow them to question Malfoy undetected.

"Not everyone hangs on the teacher's word like you do, Hermione, so why don't you tell us?" groused Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Polyjuice Potion, Ron, Snape said it allows the drinker to take on the appearance of another person."

"A potion that allows you to become another person?" said Harry, wide-eyed.

Hermione nodded. "The problem is that Snape said it's in a book called _Moste Potente Potions, _which is almost certainly in the restricted section, so we'd need teacher permission to get it."

At this, Ron turned excitedly to Harry.

"Harry, you and Snape have been getting along. Why don't you . . ."

"No," Harry cut him off, "if I ask Professor Snape, he'll be suspicious, and I'm sure this potion isn't the kind they want students to brew."

Unease twisted Harry's belly and he pushed away his mostly eaten breakfast. He wasn't sure what his relationship with Snape was, but it had become too important to risk, even over finding out who was behind the attack.

"Harry's right Ron," Said Hermione. She gave Harry a knowing look.

"Alright then –What about Lockhart?"

Harry stomach clenched even tighter.

"Lockhart?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yeah, he'd give you the moon, if you asked you him, mate," laughed Ron. "Just say you need it to 'expand your understanding of his books' and shove a piece of paper under his hands. He'll sign anything that holds still long enough."

"I-why can't Hermione do it? She'd be more convincing," asked Harry desperately.

"Me?" squeaked Hermione. "Ask Professor Lockheart?" she looked both terrified and awestruck. Ron just rolled his eyes.

"Because she's liable to faint by just being near the git . . ."

"He's not a git Ronald-"

"So it'll have to be you."

Mouth dry, Harry nodded, wishing he hadn't eaten the last bit of toast. He tried to remind himself that Ron and Hermione would be there, and what did it matter if Lockhart gave him weird looks. It was completely harmless, right?

* * *

Severus resisted the urge to groan and massage the massive headache building right between his eyes. They were planning something; he could tell just by the way they leaned in close to each other and the pale, nervous expression on Harry's face. If he was lucky, they were plotting something along the lines of the Weasley twins, but he doubted it.

The Golden Trio rarely played pranks. No, whatever scheme they had would be dangerous, break hundreds of school rule and involved Mrs. Norris's petrification.

Again, he cursed McGongall's dismissal of their concerns, last year. Severus knew the kind of effect that must have had on Harry. After all, when Severus's head of house dismissed his confession about abuse at home, he'd turned to the much more sympathetic Death Eaters in training.

At least Harry wasn't likely to fall to the same temptation. Severus drummed his fingers on the table; the best he could really do was speak to Harry after class, hope the child would listen to his warning and continue to keep an eye on them.

He bit back a sigh. Forget the Dark Lord; these children would be the death of him! Finishing off his breakfast, Severus took his leave of the staff table and made his way down to the dungeons to prepare for his first class.

As Severus passed students in the hall, he caught unmistakable whispers of speculation about the attack. A disturbing number laid the blame on Harry's shoulders.

It didn't surprise him, really. Quite a few people feared that Harry possessed some dark power that he used to vanquish the Dark Lord. Severus thought the lot of them were simpleminded fools scared of anything that didn't fit into their perfect world.

Unfortunately, the world was made up of such idiots. Severus just had to suffer through them and the children they sent him to teach. He stepped into his classroom and flicked his wand to gather the notes he needed for the days lessons.

The bell rang, signaling the end of breakfast, and, soon after, students began trickling through the door. Harry and his friends were among the first to arrive. For a moment, the dark haired child hesitated, glancing up at the table nearest Severus's desk.

"Harry? Are you all right?" called Granger. Harry looked around at her before going to join them in the back, but not without sending him an apologetic look over his shoulder.

Severus just nodded his head. It wasn't as if his feeling were hurt. He could careless where the child sat in his classroom. Actually, since the back was farther from the Slytherins, it might be for the best.

Speaking of Slytherins, Severus glanced at Draco Malfoy. Draco didn't have quite the cunning of his father, but he certainty had all the airs of a Malfoy. Spoiled almost to the point of ruin, Draco was under the misguided impression that his name and wealth entitled him to the world.

Draco was just lucky that his father had a bit of real power within the ministry; otherwise, several of the older Slytherins would show less . . . tolerance towards Draco's ego.

Even so, there was still hope for Draco, for all that he parroted the Dark Lords teaching. Even now Severus could tell Draco would make a poor Death Eater. He lacked the stomach for it.

The last bell rang, pulling Severus out of his musings. He schooled his expression to a glare.

"Those of you who completed last night's reading are award that, today, we will be brewing the Hair-Raising Potion." Severus drawled, taking in the students' expressions. He didn't need Legilimency to tell who had completed the reading.

"Mr. Finnigan, what is the main ingredient in a Hair-Raising potion?"

Finnigan and Thomas stopped snickering immediately, their faces blank and terrified.

In the back of the room, Granger's hand snapped to attention.

The silence stretched on, and Severus took some pleasure in letting them sweat. Potions were no joking matter. Plenty of brews were deadly if made incorrectly, though perhaps not at this level. Finally, he decided he had let the boys sweat for long enough.

"No idea? Five points, each, from Gryffindor for failing to do the assignment."

He deliberately turned away from the Gryffindors. Severus knew that Granger or Harry could answer the question, but he preferred for his Slytherins not to notice any differences in his behavior.

Instead, he called on Draco, who managed the correct answer: rat tails.

The rest of the lesson went as well as could be expected in a Gryffindor-Slytherin class. Longbottom managed to explode his cauldron, covering himself and those foolish enough to set near him and causing their hair to grow exponentially. Crab and Goyle were only marginally better since Draco prevented them from doing anything truly stupid. Finnigan, Thomas and Weasley managed better than he expected, but their potions still amounted to nothing more than sludge.

Granger's potion was, of course, perfect, followed closely by Draco's and surprisingly Harry's. It was amazing the change that a decent pair of glasses and a tiny bit of encouragement could make. If Longbottom weren't such a blubbering idiot, Severus would be tempted to try the same technique on him, for no other reason than to save his cauldrons.

The lesson came to an end, and the students bottled up their potions and packed their bags, all the while chatting noisily.

"Potter!" Severus called over the racket. Harry looked up, startled, and made eye contact.

"Remain behind. I wish to have a word about your potion."

The Slytherins snickered and Severus distinctly heard Draco hiss, "You've done it now, Potter. He probably wants to know how you cheated," as he pushed past the trio.

For all that Harry glared at his rival and muttered back, "Shut up, Malfoy," Severus could see that he looked worried.

Once Harry managed to shoo his friends out of the classroom he tentatively stepped up to the desk.

"Sir?" he murmured, "Sir, I swear I wouldn't . . ."

"I am aware that you did not cheat on your potion, which was a far more adequate potion than your previous attempts," Severus soothed. He knew the compliment was weak, but it was the best he could do.

Harry flushed with pride and bounced on his heels in nervous excitement, clearly over the moon about his teacher's clumsy praise.

"Thank you, sir!"

Severus nodded, eager to move on so that he could avoid analyzing the child's reaction and what it said about his home life.

"As I said, Mr. Potter, you are not in trouble, at least not yet. I simply wished to impart a warning and reiterate what I told you last night." He paused for a moment to let his words sink in then continued.

"I realized you have little reason to trust adults, so I will not ask you to trust me now. However, I do ask that you _use your head_."

Severus saw confusion in Harry's eyes.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"What I mean, Harry, is that I want you to _think_ before you go gallivanting into danger, but, most of all, I want you to understand that I will not dismiss your concerns," said Severus, making sure to not break eye contact.

Harry shifted uncomfortably under his gaze and looked away before he nodded. Severus wasn't surprised the boy failed to spill whatever mischief he and his cohorts planned. The few times Harry had admitted to something, he'd been vulnerable, willing to trust anyone who appear to care even a little. Right now, though, Harry's guard was firmly in place, but all wasn't lost. The seed Severus had so carefully fostered had sunk a little deeper, and that would have to be enough, for now.

Seeing that Harry had reached his limit, Severus scribbled a note for the child's next teacher, sneering when he realized it was Lockhart.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry politely as he accepted the note. Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement and sent him on his way. All he could do now was hope that Harry thought things through, or that he caught the trio before they were injured.

* * *

Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he made his way to Lockhart's classroom. He barely noticed the flamboyant teacher's excited, "Harry! So lovely of you to join us. Ah! I see you have a note."

Quickly, Harry shook him off and went to join Ron and Hermione at the back of the room.

"Wha' happened, mate?" whispered Ron as Harry slid into the seat they'd left open between them.

Hermione leaned in closer, and Harry stalled for time by pulling out his books, ink, and parchment.

"He knows," he told them finally.

"Knows? You mean about . . . but how?" hissed Hermione.

Harry shook his head. "Not specifically, but he knows we're planning something, and he wanted to . . ."

He stopped, unsure of what exactly Snape had wanted to do.

"Did he lay into you?" assumed Ron with sympathy.

"Not . . . not really, it was more like he wanted to warn me not to do it, that, if I had concerns, he'd listen."

Ron and Hermione shared looks before Hermione said, "Well that's . . ."

"Weird," interjected Ron.

"Maybe," said Harry to prevent Hermione from scolding the redhead, "either way, it's kinda risky to go through with the potion now. I mean this is _Snape_."

Hermione seemed to agree with him.

Ron, however, said, "Can't hurt to get the book though, right? Maybe it won't be anything tricky."

Harry doubted that a potion in a book in the restricted section would be anything other than tricky. Still, Ron had a point; it didn't hurt to at least look at the potion.

So, at the end of class, he, Ron and Hermione waited until everyone hurried out on their way to lunch, before approaching Lockhart's desk. Harry clutched a piece of parchment with the name of the book written on it for Lockhart to sign.

"Harry! I see you've finally decided to take advantage of my wisdom!" crooned the self-absorbed teacher. Harry felt a sick shiver run down his spine.

"Um, yeah, I uh . . . wanted to ask you something, Professor," said Harry and Lockhart beamed at him.

"Well, we hardly need an audience for that Harry, plenty of time for that when you're older. Why don't your friends just head on to lunch."

The last thing Harry wanted was to be left alone with Lockhart, but it was clear they weren't going to get the book unless Ron and Hermione left.

"We'll see you at lunch, Harry," called Ron over his shoulder as he pulled the door closed behind them.

Now, Harry was alone with Lockhart.

-WARNING-

"Professor, I just wanted to ask-"

"Harry, Harry, _Harry_," chanted Lockhart as he circled out from his desk to stand behind Harry. "There's no need to rush."

There were hands now on Harry's shoulders, kneading the taunt muscles even as he guided Harry over to the nearest desk and pushed him into the chair.

"We can take it slow, Harry. It's obvious why you're here."

Now, the hands slid lower down his front to loosen his tie and undo the top most buttons on his shirt. Lockheart's hot breath was in his ear. The parchment shook violently in Harry's hand.

"You-you do?" Harry squeaked, frozen with fear.

"Of course I do, Harry. You've been playing hard to get, avoiding me, even sending Severus to warn me away from you!" laughed Lockhart.

"H-he did?"

Lockhart nodded. "You've been a very naughty boy, Harry"

The hands were pulling back his shirt collar, exposing his neck and leaving Harry vulnerable.

"But, I knew you'd come round. They always do," whispered Lockhart.

He pressed his lips to the shell of Harry's ear, trailing down to his neck. Harry was utterly numb and lost in his fear until Lockhart bit down sharply. The paralyzing fear gave way to flight as Harry tore away so violently he toppled over the desk, bring both the desk and himself toppling to the ground. Even though Harry ached from fall, it didn't slow his momentum as he surged up, scrambling for the door. Yanking it open, Harry burst in to the hallway, ignoring Lockhart's cry for him to stop.

-WARNING END -

Harry simply ran, half blinded by tears, hands clamped over his mouth trying to shove down the bile rising in his throat. Somehow he made it to a bathroom and the toilet before he vomited. When there was nothing left and his stomach stopped heaving, Harry slid in between the toilet and the stall wall.

It was a while before he felt safe enough to unclench his tightly curled body. He finally managed to stand and stumble to the sink, yet he nearly vomited again when he saw his reflection in the mirror. At the juncture between his neck and his shoulders was a distinct bite mark, bleeding sluggishly. Slowly, Harry raised a hand to touch the awful mark but quickly jerked it back down before he actually could.

Quickly, he wetted a strip of toilet paper and wiped away the blood. He then dug around in his bag for the Muggle Band-Aids he'd swiped from the Dursleys, and stuck the largest one he could find on it. Taking a few deep breaths, forcing himself not to think about what just happened, Harry buttoned his shirt and redid the tie with trembling fingers.

Only after he'd rinsed out his mouth and splashed his face did Harry dare to leave the bathroom.

With trepidation, Harry decided to go ahead and catch the last few minutes of lunch. He didn't want to go, but he knew, if he didn't, Ron and Hermione would notice and ask questions. Bad enough the Dursleys knew he was a freak, but, he didn't think he could bear his friends discovering he was such a weirdo that Lockhart thought he wanted _that_…

Harry felt sick all over again. No, he would keep this quiet. No one had to know. Besides, Lockhart was famous and an adult; no one would believe Harry over him.

So he left the bathroom and made his way to the noisy, laughter-filled Great Hall, feeling like he would never laugh again. When Harry sat next to his best friends, they both looked at him expectantly.

"So, how'd it go? You were gone a long time, mate," said Ron excitedly.

"Yeah, um he talked a lot and then I had to go to the bathroom, but he didn't sign it," Harry muttered.

"Really? I'd have thought he'd sign anything."

"He probably just didn't want us getting into trouble, Ronald. He's looking out for our safety," said Hermione, awe in her voice.

Harry felt sick again.

"Yeah, I'm sure that it." The words felt like poison on his lips, and he repressed a shudder. Unbidden, Harry's eyes were drawn to the staff table where Professor Gildroy Lockheart had just entered. The flashy man smiled at Harry, but it didn't reach his eyes. Harry's stomach dropped, and he hastily looked away.

"Guess we'll have to try something else," said Ron, oblivious to Harry's distress.

"Yeah, I guess so," said Harry, feverishly thinking that, the farther away from Lockhart it took him, the better.

* * *

Author's note

Sooo, that was an action packed chapter. I just want to say that I do not condone child molestation/rape in _any _way, shape, or form. Its evil, sick, twisted and just plain _wrong_. That being said, why have I written a fan fiction that has child molestation in it? Because I firmly believe that issues such as this have to be talked and written about.

Ignoring sensitive issues such as abuse doesn't mean it goes away, it just means it been swept under the rug where it will become even more of an issue.

I don't pretend to know what I'm talking about, like I said, I'm not a therapist, or physiologist, and I've never been abused. But that doesn't mean I don't want to speak out against it, even if it is in just a fan fiction.

On another note, I also promise that this is as graphic as this story is going to get and I still believe it fits under a T rating. If you think I'm wrong and I need a higher rating or something, I ask that you either send me a review or a PM with your concerns, be warned though, if it's a flame I am going to ignore it.

Finally, college is starting back up for me soon and I will be working two jobs at the same time, my updates might be very few and far between but I will be writing and posting when I can.

Thank you all so much for your reviews and support, I hope I haven't disappoint too many.

Until next time,

Zx14ninja


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